Electric Blue
by Winkle101
Summary: Bella ran away from home when she was 17 and 3 years later is now an exotic dancer in Chicago. Edward is an up-and-coming sports writer who is battling his own personal demons. Can they help piece each other back together? AU/AH with usual canon pairings.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I've been thinking about this plot for a long time now and I finally just had to write it down. Would love to hear your thoughts.**_

**Disclaimer**_**: **_**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, its plot and all of its characters. I own Electric Blue.**

_**Edward POV**_

_It's amazing how all strip joints smell the same._ Stale beer, sweat, lust, guilt, and desire all mixed together under painful, red fluorescent lighting and music that is almost offensively loud.

All I needed to do was get through this one bachelor party and then my social quota with the guys from work would be met for the month. It was the first job I had held for more than six months straight in the past five years and I wasn't about to make myself stand out unnecessarily just because I couldn't suck it up for a few hours. There were worse things in the world than having to spend an evening out with Mike Newton and my other meathead co-workers… but just barely.

At the moment, the man in question was pulling out a huge wad of singles and palming it back and forth between his sweaty hands with an excited grin on his face, "Yo, Cullen, I still think you made a mistake by not hitting up the ATM on the way in here," Newton shot over his shoulder as he started to weave his way toward a table near the stage.

I just rolled my eyes. Any guy that got that kind of look of excitement in his eyes at the prospect of seeing tits – most of which were probably fake – wasn't worth the cost of the brain cells it would kill to respond. Moreover, it was clear by his exuberance that these would be the first tits he would be seeing in quite some time. _Not that you're one to talk_, my conscience chimed in. Still, I would like to think I have at least _some_ standards.

Eric Yorkie, the "lucky" bachelor of the evening, who was already a few shots of Jagermeister deep, threw an arm around my shoulder and slurred, "Well I'm glad you came Edddward. It's about time you loosened up and came out with us. I've heard legends of your old partying days from Jasper. Hopefully we can see a return of that wild guy tonight."

I would have to strangle Jasper when I saw him next. Not only did my only friend and ally in the office weasel out of partaking in this mind-numbing debauchery, but now he was regaling the biggest gossip in the office with stories of my wilder years. _Some friend_. If he weren't dating my sister I'd consider knocking the guy's front teeth out.

I lagged behind for a moment so I could take a few deep breaths and get myself to calm the fuck down. It's not like I expected this to be a pleasant evening or anything – no need to make it worse by letting any of these guys get under my skin. Besides, it was Friday, and once I got through tonight I'd have the rest of the weekend away from these bastards.

~***~

I seated myself at the far end of the long, rectangular table that the 9 or so guys that were there for Yorkie's party had chosen. Mike Newton and his right-hand meat-head Tyler Crowley were sitting front and center, facing the stage.

An unexpectedly hot waitress with long blond hair and ice blue eyes came over to our table. "Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Electric Blue. What can I get for you this evening?"

Mike Newton was the first to speak up, "You can start by telling me how much I owe you for a lap dance," he said as he wrapped an arm around the waitress' waist from behind and pulled her down into his lap.

Before any of us could even make a move to respond, the waitress hit Newton across the face with her tray – _hard_ – and flipped him over so his cheek was pressed against the table and his arm was twisted painfully behind his back.

"Need any help, Rosie?" a bartender who was casually cleaning glasses yelled from across the club.

"No, I've got it, Em" the waitress said calmly as she turned her attention back to Newton. "You are _not_ allowed to touch the wait staff unless you are invited to do so," she sneered angrily, her lips a few inches from his ear as she twisted his arm harder and Newton gave a little yelp in pain. "Do we understand one another??"

"Yes," Newton whimpered in a small voice, before she released him and pulled him back upright into his seat by his collar.

_Maybe this night wasn't going to be so bad after all._

"Now, gentleman, where were we?" the waitress said, turning to the rest of us with a tight smile. "Oh yes, drinks. What can I get for all of you?"

She proceeded to take all of our orders, taking Newton's last, and then sauntered back across the club to the bar. While the guys started laughing at Newton and punching him in the shoulder, I watched as the waitress leaned over the counter and pulled the aforementioned bartender's face in between her hands and kissed him soundly before turning to the screen at the side of the bar to punch in our order.

Before I had any more time to think about that, the lights changed color from florescent red to a bright blue and the music changed tracks, signaling the start of something happening on the stage.

A spotlight fell on the stage and a woman dressed in tight red leather pants and a red halter-top stepped out with a microphone in her hand. She was fairly short but she wore spiked high heels, which added a good four inches. She was fair skinned, had straight blond hair and was smiling widely in a way that somehow made me suddenly feel very dirty.

"Welcome to Electric Blue!" she yelled into the mic. "Congratulations on making it to the end of the work week! I think you've all earned yourself a reward!" The audience clapped and howled in agreement. "I see some new faces in the crowd tonight … and certainly some not-so-new faces," she laughed – and the crowd laughed with her. "As always, we've got a great night ahead of us, relax and enjoy!"

With that, she spun on her heel and as she started walking off stage, 6 girls in various states of undress sauntered on. There were four poles in total on stage, and immediately 2 of the girls grabbed poles and began twisting and twirling around them, while the other four girls took up residence dancing at different places around the perimeter.

The girl closest to our table had on what looked like a tiny light blue bikini with white fur trim. She had on silver lipstick with matching silver eye shadow and long fake eyelashes. Her body was decent enough but her tits were obviously fake and her skin was an unnatural shade of orange from all of the fake-and-baking she had clearly been doing.

She locked eyes on our table, threw a wink to no one in particular, and moved right in front of us as she started rocking her body back and forth in her 5-inch platform shoes. Newton – his bruised ego having recovered since the incident with the hot waitress – hooted a greeting to the girl on stage. He turned to a nearby brunette waitress and ordered a round of tequila shots for the table before throwing down the rest of his beer and scooting his chair closer to the stage. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of bills, crooking his finger toward the girl on stage to beckon her closer.

The dancer moved closer and seductively ran her hands over her body before lowering herself so she was crouching back on her heels with her legs wide open. Newton eagerly shoved a few dollars into the side of her g-string. She gave him a flirtatious smile and rewarded him by reaching between her breasts to snap open her already barely-there top, releasing her tits and revealing her silver pasties. Newton hollered his appreciation and quickly tucked in a few more dollars, giving her ass a good squeeze while he was at it. She gave him a wink and stood back up, taking a few steps back before resuming her dance for the rest of the table.

The tequila shots arrived and I threw mine back before getting up to take a piss. When I was on my way back to the table I noticed Ben Cheney standing at the bar, chatting with the big bartender who had kissed the waitress earlier. "What's up Cheney?" I asked, signaling to the bartender that I'd like the same thing Ben was drinking. "Not much, Cullen. Just needed to take a breather, you know how it is."

Other than Jasper, Ben Cheney was pretty much the only other one of my co-workers I could tolerate at the Chicago Tribune, where we worked. Ben also worked on the sports desk with Jasper and me, and although he was pretty quiet, he seemed cool so far.

"Yeah, I definitely know how it is," I responded. "So Angela's cool with you being here?" Angela Weber was a copywriter at the paper and had been Ben's serious girlfriend for a while. "Yeah, she obviously doesn't love it – what with Yorkie and Newton being such idiots and all – but she knows she can trust me. Hey--you covering the Bears game on Sunday?"

"Nah, got the rest of the weekend off because I need to help move my sister into her new apartment tomorrow and then I'm driving out to Evanston to see my grandmother in her nursing home on Sunday." _Wow, aren't we in a chatty mood tonight…_ I don't know why I just gave him so much info. Thankfully, Ben was a good guy, and just remarked, "Cool, man."

The bartender returned with our drinks and Ben turned to both of us, "Cullen, meet Emmett McCarty, we play pick-up hoops sometimes on the weekends together. McCarty, meet Edward Cullen, we work together at The Tribune. Cullen's the next big thing in sports writing."

"Nice, man. Yeah, I've definitely caught some of your columns. Loved your coverage of the Cubs this past season. Nice to meet you." Up close, the guy was a lot bigger than he looked from across the club. He was wearing a tight black shirt with Electric Blue emblazoned across the front and the sleeves were barely containing his huge bicep muscles.

"Thanks, man. Nice to meet you, too," I replied. "Anyone who's associated with the hot blond who knocked Newton upside the head is alright with me," I said with a laugh.

"Oh, Rosie? Yeah, she's my girl. That tends to happen on a nightly basis but she definitely knows how to handle them. Hey, I've got to get back to work, but it was great to see you guys. This round's on me. Cheney, I can't make hoops tomorrow but I'll see you next weekend. Cullen, great to meet you again."

We gave him a nod and headed back across the club to join the guys. Another dancer had joined the one who had been dancing in front of Newton before, and the two were now moving together suggestively on stage. I noticed a few of the other guys had gotten out their rolls of cash and were also now rewarding the girls for their performance. Newton was yelling out belligerently and clearly was well on his way to blacking out if he kept up his current pace of drinking.

I sat nursing my Jack Daniels while the girls completed a few more sets and the guys continued to get more and more inebriated. _Just another hour or so and then I'm out of here. Maybe I'll have time to swing by Topside and see if anyone's on the mic tonight_, I thought to myself.

For the second time that night the music suddenly cut out and the lights – which had turned to neon green at this point – once again shifted back to bright blue. The girls had stopped dancing and were now sashaying off the stage in single file. Once again the spotlight fell on the small blond dressed in red who stalked back on to the stage. "Is everyone having a good time?!" she said loudly yet seductively into the microphone she was carrying in her hand. The crowd responded with even more enthusiasm than the last time and I noticed that the guys who looked like they were the regulars were now sitting up straighter and paying a lot more attention. As if acknowledging them, she said, "I know why a lot of you are here and what you've been waiting for all night." I looked around in confusion while a lot of guys – and even a few girls – at nearby tables nodded eagerly. Tyler Crowley leaned over our table and said, "If she's talking about what I think she is, I heard the guys in the steam room at the gym talking about this girl coming up!" The blond on stage continued, "Such patience deserves to be rewarded, so without further ado, I give you… Electric Blue's one and only, Bambi!!!"

The whole stage then suddenly went pitch back and the club lighting dimmed almost completely, before a single blue spotlight began to shine down on the center of the stage. From the ceiling above the stage a long, single pole began to descend, seemingly empty. The opening of what I immediately recognized as Evanescence's "Bring Me to Life" began to play and suddenly I saw that the pole was not empty after all. From above, a girl with long brown hair was hanging upside down and using just her legs, she slowly began to slide down the pole.

_How can you see into my eyes like open doors?_

_Leading you down into my core where I've become so numb_

_Without a soul, my spirit sleeping somewhere cold_

_Until you find it there and lead it back home_

Now, I'm not ashamed to admit that I've been into a few strip clubs over the course of my lifetime. The guys on both my high school and college football teams used to sometimes like to go to a strip club after a big game or practice to blow off steam and act like idiots. As such, I had seen my fair share of pole dancing over the years. That said, what the girl on the pole on stage was now doing was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Still using only her legs, she had hitched one leg at the knee and was now leaning out completely perpendicular to the pole as she continued to circle down farther and farther toward the ground on the pole. Being an accomplished athlete at one point myself, I could appreciate the incredible feats of strength and flexibility she was demonstrating.

_Wake me up_

_(Wake me up inside)_

_I can't wake up_

_(Wake me up inside)_

_Save me_

_(Call my name and save me from the dark) _

As the music changed tempo, she reached out her arms on the pole and hoisted herself back up, essentially doing a back flip up over the distance she had covered thus far on the pole, so she was now situated back at the top. I noticed she still had yet to touch the ground. Keeping her thighs tightly around the pole, she contorted her upper body so that she was bent back around the pole, with her head almost touching her heels.

I took a moment to survey her body. Although she was wearing slightly more than the other dancers, it still wasn't much. She had on a low cut, lacey blue bikini top that was tied tightly in the back and lace blue boy shorts. Her legs were long and lean, but looked incredibly strong, as did her sculpted arms and back. Her stomach was completely flat, with definition that you almost only ever see when it's airbrushed onto the models on the sports magazine covers. Her outfit was finished off with four inch, blue, glow-in-the-dark platform heels, which were now completely extended as she leaned back and used her arms to support her as she did a perfect, 90 degree angle spread-eagle split on the pole. For a brief moment, I could swear we locked eyes as she hung upside down. Given the lighting it was impossible to tell what color her eyes were but it looked as if she broke concentration briefly and blinked suddenly in recognition of our momentary interaction.

However, before I had time to give it more thought, without warning she then flipped back over and from at least seven feet up on the pole she slid all the way down at full speed and landed on the ground in a perfect split. The audience hooted and whistled their appreciation while many of the men subtly winced and reached for their groin. She then used the pole to gracefully stand back up and putting one leg completely vertical against the pole, leaned away from it while keeping the other leg on the floor, once again curving her body in such a way that demonstrated the utmost flexibility.

As she stood back up I had an opportunity to finally take in her face; I was shocked by what I saw. Although she was wearing way too much eye make up, she was clearly beautiful – and not in a plastic surgery kind of way. Her long, wavy brown hair framed her heart-shaped face and luminescent skin. Her lips were full and pink without being too prominent, and she had a small, delicate yet strong nose. Although she wasn't frowning, she clearly was concentrating seriously on her routine, because she had a small vertical wrinkle between her perfectly shaped eyebrows that I had the strangest urge to run my thumb over and smooth out. On closer inspection, I could see that her breasts were not nearly as huge as the other dancers but were still a good size and, at least from my vantage point, appeared to be the only real tits I'd seen in the place thus far.

She stepped a few feet away from the pole and then took several quick steps before launching herself back at the pole and swinging around it multiple times, once again using only her arms as her legs were extended out behind her. The song was beginning to wind down and she took the opportunity to demonstrate a few final feats of strength, holding herself for several seconds at a time in difficult positions and, at one point, holding herself upside down and away from the pole as she rippled her stomach erotically in time to the music.

She then pulled herself to the top of the pole and began swinging around it incredibly fast with her back to the pole and just her ankles and hands making contact as she arched away. All of a sudden water began pouring down on her and although she was immediately drenched she did not stop circling as the final chords of the song rang out and her hair whipped water out wildly into the audience. She twisted her body one last time so that she was once again facing the pole and swung around and around until she was finally back down on the ground.

The crowd – which at no point had been entirely silent – erupted into even more thunderous applause and whistles and hollers. It was at this point that I finally realized I had been holding my breath for the last 30 seconds of the performance, and I let out a long gust of air. Not only that, but I realized she had had the incredible ability to make me feel like she was performing for me alone, and now it was as if all of these people were intruding on our personal moment.

With the performance done, her face now lost its intense concentration as she looked out at the crowd with a quick smile and a nod of acknowledgement to all the applause. Although I couldn't have been sure because Newton took the opportunity at that exact moment to whistle loudly between his two fingers, I could have sworn I saw her seek out my eyes one more time before she dashed off stage.

As a guy dressed entirely in black quickly ran out with a mop to soak up all the water on stage, the dancers that had been out previously once again returned to the stage as the lights and music changed back and they began once again dancing around the perimeters.

Newton, who had practically had his elbows on the stage throughout the entire performance, now fell back into his chair dramatically and clutched his heart, "That's it, fellas. I'm in love. I found the girl I'm going to marry." I felt my face heat and I shot Newton a look of death. _Whoa, easy there, tiger. What's it to you, anyway? _I thought to myself.

It didn't really matter, though, because no one had noticed my momentary meltdown. As the blond woman dressed in red from the stage walked by our table, Newton yelled out to her, "Hey, Red. How do we get _alone_ time with the girls, if you know what I mean…?" With a gleam in her eye, she sauntered over to Newton and bent down to whisper in his ear. As she spoke, his eyes glazed over and a creepy, shit-eating grin took up residence on his face. "Sounds like a plan," he responded conspiratorially, as he not-so-discreetly slipped her his credit card.

"Well, gentlemen," he said as he got up on wobbly legs as the alcohol really start to take its toll, "I have a date with my future wife, so I must be going."

"Seriously, Newton. Are you really about to go have sex with a stripper right now?" Yorkie asked incredulously.

"That's for me to know, and you to be jealous about," Newton slurred back. "S'not my fault you're locking on the old ball and chain, Yorkie."

With that, Newton turned and stumbled his way across the club before exiting through a door labeled "VIP only."

The guys spent a few minutes taking bets and speculating around how much more money Newton was going to drop, before they turned their attention back to the stage to watch the girls who were now back gyrating suggestively closest to the table.

I quickly drank the rest of my beer and then got up, mumbling an excuse to the guys nearest to me that I was going to go get a refill – not that any of them noticed, anyway. I dropped my empty on the bar and then headed towards the bathrooms, which just happened to be adjacent to the hallway Newton had disappeared down.

As I was passing through the door to the restroom I heard muffled shouting over the thumping base that was reverberating through the club. I stepped away from the entrance to the bathroom long enough to hear someone yell, "Sir… Sir! We're going to have to ask you to leave! You are past the point of acceptable inebriation to be alone with one of the girls right now."

"Fuck you, Tarzan! I paid my money, now lemme in there," whined a voice I immediately recognized to be Mike Newton's – albeit a very drunk sounding Newton. I'm not sure whether it was curiosity or just plain stupidity, but without thinking I suddenly pushed through the doors and headed toward the direction of the shouting.

The hallway was basked in soft pink lighting and although you could still hear the thumping of the base, it was significantly more muted and I could now hear softer jazz music coming from speakers in the ceilings above.

I turned a corner and immediately came upon Newton and Emmett McCarty, the bartender Ben Cheney had introduced me to earlier. Although Newton was swaying back and forth considerably, he was crouched low, seemingly ready to fight the guy in front of him who easily had about 100 pounds on him.

"Newton, what the fuck?!" I said.

Emmett was the first to notice me, and Newton tried to capitalize on the momentary diversion and went to take a swing at him but missed completely and Emmett easily maneuvered him against the wall and held him there with a forearm across Newton's chest.

"_Ooof…_Oh God … I'm gonna to be sick…" Newton mumbled as he turned a definitive shade of green. Emmett quickly released him in time for Newton to clutch his hand over his mouth and sprint back down the hallway in the direction of the bathrooms.

"Do you know that idiot?" Emmett said to me as we watched Newton's fast-retreating form.

"Unfortunately," I responded. "I have the distinct displeasure of working with him. I knew the guy was a jack ass but I never knew he was a lush on top of it all. I was just heading to the john and heard yelling that sounded like Newton so I came over. Sorry about that, man. Not that it looked like you couldn't handle it on your own."

Emmett shrugged his shoulders, "Nah, not to worry. Like I was saying before, stuff like this tends to happens on a nightly basis. At least he didn't yak on my shoes. That's the worst."

I nodded and turned to leave when Emmett stopped me. "Yo, he already paid his fee up front, by the way. Tips are all cash, but the guy already put his credit card down for the base fee." Emmett looked at me knowingly, "Which means… you can take his private dance, if you want."

Temptation seized me for a moment, before I said, "No, really I shouldn't. Thanks, though."

Emmett looked at me incredulously, "Seriously, man. Bambi is the best dancer we have and you look like a decent enough guy who will appreciate her…talents. You should really take the dance, if only to get back at that douchebag on his dime."

_Well when you put it that way…_ I rubbed my hand along the back of my neck debating it for a moment. "Ummm… yeah, I guess you're right, man. Why not?"

"Good choice," Emmett beamed at me as he stepped aside and knocked on the door before opening. "He's all yours, Bambi," he called into the room before giving me a wink and a slap on the shoulder and heading back down the hallway.

I stepped into a room and was immediately awash in subdued fluorescent blue lighting. The room was circular, with cushioned seating running around the entire circumference of the room and there was a small table in the middle of the room with a pole running from the ceiling to the floor.

As I shut the door behind me I took another moment to look around the room before locking in on to the most beautiful pair of glassy, brown eyes I had ever seen.

~***~


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**_**: **_**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, its plot and all its characters. I own Electric Blue.**

**WARNING: Drug use is a prevalent aspect of this chapter. You have been warned. **

**BPOV**

"_Bambi you're on in 5!"_

"I'll be there!" I yelled back to Jane. All the other girls were on stage and I blessedly had the dressing room to myself for once.

_Come on, come on. Ugh, why do they make these pill bottles so hard to open?_ I thought to myself as my shaking hands refused to cooperate. For a moment I considered just putting it on the ground and stomping on the bottle with one of my platform heels but I didn't want to risk wasting any of the precious contents inside.

Recognizing Jane's cue as the music changed tracks, I realized I needed to abandon my efforts and switch tactics – or rather switch my choice of substances. _Why did James have to pick ten minutes before my show to be all creepy?!_

I quickly rummaged through my oversized bag and pulled out the small plastic baggie. Not caring if I left evidence of my actions, I tapped a few lines out on an upturned, hand-held mirror sitting on the vanity. I grabbed the straw out of one of the soda cans one of the girls had been drinking from and clipped a small segment off with a nearby pair of nail clippers. Without hesitation, I plugged one nostril, inserted the straw in the other, and inhaled quickly as I pulled in the lines.

I sat back for a moment, closing my eyes and relishing the familiar feeling of the drugs starting to course through my system.

I heard Jane on stage getting the crowd riled up and knew I had about 60 seconds until I was on. Thankfully, the ladder to get to the rafters above the stage was located right outside the dressing room so I was able to get to my mark just as the opening chords of Evanescence started to ring out.

As I began my routine, another kind of familiar drug started to take effect… the high I only felt when I was performing. I was grateful I chose one of my more difficult numbers tonight, this routine required a great deal of concentration and, in retrospect, taking a pill would not have helped. Cocaine, on the other hand, made me bring my 'A game' to a performance like this.

I began with my spinning inverted thigh hold, which allowed me to get in tune with my body and gauge how much I was going to be able to push myself. A quick assessment told me that tonight I could take some risks and throw in a few of the new moves I had been working on. I moved into an outside leg hang – or Gemini move – which was my secretive way of getting a good stretch in early on in the performance because I hadn't had a chance to do so beforehand.

One of my favorite things about this routine was the lighting. Normally I had the strobe or disco ball to deal with, but this number was meant to showcase my strength and flexibility and I relished in the fact that I only had the single blue column of light above. Although I could still see into the crowd easily, the lighting for this dance allowed for a certain sense of isolation.

Rotating out of my scorpion invert, I pulled myself up and leaned back into my spread eagle hold – something the guys always went wild for. While I was hanging there, I did something I didn't normally do while doing a challenging move on the pole, I made eye contact with an audience member. And not just any eye contact, I locked gazes with a particularly piercing pair of eyes.

The blue lighting must have been playing tricks with my vision because from my vantage point it almost looked like the eyes were… green. Surely that couldn't be. I don't think I had ever met anyone with green eyes. Hazel, sure, but never pure green.

While I doubt anyone had noticed, I suddenly realized I had broken my concentration from the routine – something that _never_ happens to me – and to rectify it I threw in an impromptu free falling scissor split despite my high vertical height on the pole. Although it appears painful to the eye, it's actually a move I have complete control over and, in this case, served as a much-needed focusing function.

The performance continued without a hitch after that. I did a few floor moves before re-mounting the pole and doing a few rudimentary back hooks and reverse sunwheels which showed off my blue two-piece nicely. I then worked in some of my new, harder moves which I doubt the crowd appreciated as much as the splits, but I didn't care.

Then came the finale. I _hate_ the rain finale. Unfortunately, according to Jane it's every guy's bizarre, Flashdance fantasy so I have to put up with it. I positioned myself into a back-hold spin and began rotating as the water was released. What people don't realize is that it is absolutely impossible to keep up the rotation if any substantive amount of water makes contact with the actual pole. While normally I savor a good challenge in a routine, in this case it is just annoying. Plus, I hate getting wet. _The rainy climate seems to follow me wherever I go_, I thought ironically.

I spun into my dismount as I finally made contact with the floor. As always, I felt a flash of disappointment as a performance came to an end. Shaking my head and resurfacing into the moment, I looked out into the crowd and gave a quick bow.

As I made my way off stage I couldn't help but seek out those eyes one more time. The first thing I noticed was the guy sitting front-and-center at his table. Hard to miss when he let loose a high-pitched whistle. He was clearly intoxicated and was looking at me like I was the last beer on Earth. I swear I could see his drool mingling with the water that had pooled on stage.

I shot a quick glance past his shoulder and once again locked in on those piercing eyes and with the house lights readjusting I had time to see that they were indeed green… definitely green. Before I had time to look beyond the eyes, though, I was off stage and walking swiftly toward the dressing room.

Although my 'performance high' was over, I was still feeling the wonderful effects of my earlier drug intake as I strode back into the dressing room while the rest of the girls filed past me on their way back onto the stage.

Unfortunately, this time the dressing room was no longer empty. Instead, Victoria was now sitting in the chair in front of my mirror, legs perched on the vanity with her ankles crossed as she filed her nails.

"What the hell, Victoria? Get out of my chair," I said as I moved around her to grab a towel, still dripping wet from my performance. "What are you even doing here, anyway? Tonight is your night off."

Making no attempt to move, she remarked in a way that I'm sure was meant to incite some sort of jealousy, "James is taking me to dinner, if you must know."

The mention of James sent an involuntary shiver down my spine, which had nothing to do with the fact that I was now starting to get a serious chill from my wet hair.

"Isn't that nice for you two," I said flatly. "Now will you please get out of my fucking chair so I can use my blow dryer?" I'm sure my wild eyes told her that I was in no state to be disagreed with.

She gave an exasperated sigh and got up before slouching into the next chair and resuming the work on her nails.

"Nice scissor split, by the way" she remarked sarcastically as she pulled out a bottle of polish and began painting her nails a deep, blood red.

"Watching from the wings again, Vicky?" I sneered back. "And here I thought you were nonchalantly filing your nails in the dressing room the whole time. Surely you have better things to do than continue to watch my routines so you can poach moves."

Her face momentarily turned the shade of her polish and she was about to fire back a comment when Jane stuck her head in the door and interrupted us—

"Bambi, you have a private customer in room 3. Emmett's running his card now. Be there in 5."

"What? Jane—no! You told me one performance tonight and that was it," I said angrily.

All I wanted to do was go home, scrub myself from head-to-toe with scalding water, take a handful of vicoden, and sleep until my next shift.

Jane clearly had other ideas as she narrowed her eyes at me. "You will be there in 5 minutes or I'm cutting you off," Jane threatened knowingly.

"I'll take her client, Janey" Victoria purred unhelpfully.

"No—the customer specifically requested Bambi and, like I said, his card is already being charged," Jane snapped back. "Now change into something sexy, hit your hair with the blow dryer, and get back there."

Without even waiting for my response, Jane spun on her heel and stalked out of the dressing room. _She knew she had me the second she took one look into my glassy, coked up eyes ._

"Fuck!!" I yelled. However, as expected, I did what she said and flipped my head over to start blow drying my hair. _Whatever, I could use the money anyway._ While I was blow drying, I reached behind me and flipped through my clothing rack before pulling out a deep blue two piece with tasseled fringe. It was one of my nicest outfits but I didn't feel like changing out of my matching platform heels – I might have mastered walking in them but they were still a bitch to take on and off.

At the very least I won't reapply my make-up as heavily, I told myself defiantly. A lot of my eye make-up had run off during the water finale and I hated how caked on it always felt. I would still have on way more than I preferred, but I'd take rebellion however I could get it at this point.

**~***~**

By the time I left the dressing room I was back in the zone, thanks primarily to the quick line I had done before I left. Feeling reenergized, I had slipped on my favorite garter belt, which was now fitted snuggly around my thigh as I sauntered down the hallway toward room 3. Although Emmett's broad shoulders were blocking most of my view, I was able to make out the profile of my next client as I slipped into the room and out of sight.

_Seriously?? The drooling whistler?!? _

Not that I was entirely surprised, it always seemed to be the loudest, drunkest guys who were willing to throw down their credit card without hesitation for some one-on-one time.

The silver lining to this was that they also usually came with a lot of cash, so at least I could count on walking out of here with some nice tips.

Keeping my eyes on that prize, I perched myself coquettishly on the top of the couch, with my feet on the seat cushions, waiting for him to enter.

I heard some shouting outside but it was hard to hear exactly what was going on above the music that was currently playing in room 3. Also, it's not like hearing yelling was an uncommon occurrence in this hallway – sometimes it could be hard to tell if was resulting from anger or pleasure – so I never really gave it a second thought.

After a few moments, I heard a quick knock and Emmett announced that the client was all mine.

_Game time._

I kept my eyes trained on the door and remained seated as I assumed my staple sexy pose. I couldn't help the small gasp that escaped as the "client" stepped through the door. It was not the drunken whistler that I had seen in the hallway, but rather the owner of the piercing green eyes I had seen from the stage.

He was clearly taking a moment to survey the room and had yet to make eye contact with me, so I took the moment to compose myself and do a little surveying of my own.

I had a lot of opportunities in my line of work to view the range of male physiques and therefore I could say without hesitation that the man in front of me was exceptionally good looking. He was tall, I'd say a few inches over six feet, and was clearly in good shape. He appeared to have a nice, muscled torso and a lean, tapered waste. I assumed he was coming from work, as he had on black slacks and a white button down shirt with the shirt sleeves rolled up. He had on a dark green tie that now hung loosely around his neck, clearly the result of being tugged on excessively in the hours since escaping the confines of the office.

His hair was the last thing I had a chance to notice as he was taking in his surroundings. Most of the men who came in here were older and therefore often had thinning hair – or sometimes were already bald. _Nothing_ like the gorgeous head of hair on the man in front of me. Again, it was hard to tell under the blue lighting, but it appeared to have an almost copper, auburn tone to it.

_Maybe this night wasn't going to be so bad after all._

My appreciative surveying had to stop there, however, because he had finished his cursory glance around the room and I now found myself once again locked in on those piercing, green eyes.

"H-hello," he stammered, before clearing his throat. "My friend … uhh—definitely not my friend—my _co-worker_ got sick … and… uh, Emmett pointed out that--"

I decided to put the poor guy out of his misery, "Why don't you come in and sit down?"

"Okay." He walked over and sat down near me, although he left a good two feet of space between us.

I cocked my head in amusement at his apparent discomfort and purred, "What's your name?"

He shook his head as if to clear it, and responded confidently, "Edward. Edward Cullen."

"Well, Edward. Welcome to Electric Blue. I'm glad you decided to come visit me tonight. How would you like to spend our time together?"

Once again he appeared uncomfortable, and I wondered if he had ever been in this position before and if not, I wondered what he was expecting. As if in response to my internal question, he asked, "Umm, what do you normally do?"

I smiled brightly, the drugs giving the illusion of happy confidence, "Well, there is really only one rule you must adhere to, and that is no touching unless I invite it. There are cameras in the ceiling and we are being monitored, so if you get out of hand someone will come in and ask you to leave."

I paused as he took a moment to glance at the unmistakable concave, one-way mirror in the ceiling which concealed the cameras. I wasn't joking about being watched, either. Every so often a guy would get too handsy and Emmett or another one of our appointed "muscle" would have to come in and drag the guy away. Somehow I got the sense that this would not be a problem with the guy in front of me, though.

"Other than that, the hour is yours. Many guys like to see me dance again and I'm happy to remove any and all clothing, at your request."

I got the impression I was going to have to take the initiative with this guy so in an effort to prove my point, I reached for the center clasp of my top, ready to go topless.

This guy clearly had other ideas, though, as he lunged for me in an attempt to stop me, "No!" he shouted quickly, putting his hands out but stopping just short of touching me. "Uhh, no. That's okay. No need to do that." Clearly surprised by his own actions, he ran his hand through his hair in bewilderment as he blew out a gust of air he appeared to have been holding. "Umm, a dance. A dance sounds nice."

I chuckled at his behavior and stood up on the cushions as I started to walk the long way around to get to the pole in the center. "You're a funny one, Edward Cullen." I said amusedly as I continued my walk, "A dance it is."

I paused as I came full circle on the couches and moved to step over him, pausing with one leg on either side of his lap. He was now eye-level with my garter belt and I stopped to give him a knowing look and a small cough of expectation.

He looked at me strangely for a moment before realization registered in his eyes. "Oh, right, of course," he said as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. I could see from my vantage point that it was full of bills and I smiled appreciatively as he slipped $20 into my garter belt.

"Thank you, Edward," I said seductively.

I finished stepping over his lap and gave him a quick wink over my shoulder before leaping off the couch and grabbing the pole in the center of the room, immediately tucking into a few cradle spins.

Although I preferred the main stage, I didn't mind dancing in the private rooms. It was a nice excuse to practice and it normally kept the guys a safe distance away. The music became somewhat irrelevant in these circumstances so I usually kept it slow and stuck to moves that showed off my flexibility – always a winner with the guys.

I did a few inverted V splits and a slow-motion seated spin before locking into a thigh hold and bending back fully so that I once again found myself upside down and making eye contact with those stunning green eyes.

Like before, I was unable to tear my eyes away – and this time I didn't have to. I stayed frozen in that upside down position, staring into his eyes for what felt like forever.

He was the one to suddenly break the trance, and his voice sounded strained as he said, "Forgive me, I forgot to ask you your name." He coughed and shook his head again, as if to clear both his throat and his mind.

I flipped up and slipped back into appropriate character as I smiled down on him, "You already know my name, Edward. It's Bambi." I did a playful martini spin and tilted my head back, shaking my hair out.

"Don't your muscles get tired doing that?" He asked as I continued to spin, seeming genuinely curious.

"Sometimes," I answered truthfully. "But it's all about being in control. I know my strength and my limits. Besides, it takes a long time to tire me out," I winked flirtatiously. Demonstrating my point, I maneuvered into a side hold, using just my legs as I leaned out perpendicular to the bar, leaving my hands and arms completely free.

"So, what is that you do, Edward?" I asked as I stayed in that position.

Once again he seemed caught up in the moment and it took him a few seconds to respond, "I'm a … I'm a journalist with the Tribune."

"Oh wow," I cooed appreciatively, "Any chance I've read something you wrote?" As I said this, I reached back and entered into a superman spin, a move that allowed me to make good eye contact and gave him a great view of my cleavage – not that every move didn't afford that given how little I was wearing.

"Perhaps," he responded, "if you follow any sports. I write a bi-weekly column that focuses primarily on Chicago's sports teams."

"How exciting," I said in a hopefully convincing tone. In truth, while I didn't mind sports (I liked to consider myself an athlete of some sort as well), oftentimes it brought forth too many painful memories and feelings. Memories and feelings that I expertly shoved aside at the moment as I once again flashed a smile. "I may indeed have read them. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for them from now on, though."

Now it was his turn to cock his head at me, as he seemed to be thinking through my reaction and response.

"Why don't you come back and sit down," he suggested quietly. "That is, unless you want to continue dancing."

_What a funny thing to say, _I thought to myself. _I can't ever remember a guy picking up on how much I enjoyed the dancing enough to ask me my preference._

Obviously I wasn't going to point this out to him, so instead I spun to a stop and said, "We can do whatever you like, Edward, this time is yours."

"I think I'd just like to…talk…I guess… if that's okay."

Talking actually wasn't that uncommon in here. Sometimes guys would use some of their time to complain about their jobs or their wives or girlfriends. Meanwhile I would just pretend to care as I writhed around on the couch in suggestive positions, hoping that at the end I would have met enough of their needs to warrant a substantive tip.

As such, I found myself immediately responding, "Of course that's okay, Edward. Like I said, this time is all yours." As I said this I once again stepped onto the couch and stood straddling him expectantly. This time he did not hesitate as he slipped another $20 bill in my garter.

"Thank you, Edward," I said sexily. I took one step past him on the couch before bending over while keeping my legs straight and pretending to fix the strap on my shoe. As intended, this also happened to give him a phenomenal, up-close view of my ass.

"What would you like to talk about Edward?" I asked, using my seductive voice while I stayed bent over, looking at him from around my left knee.

I put my hands out and crawled out of my bent over position before turning on my back and lying on the couch with my arms above my head, chest thrust out, and one knee bent.

From this angle I was able to get an incredible view of his jaw line. Yup, his bone structure put the nail in the coffin that he was, indeed, the best looking individual to ever come through the doors of Electric Blue. I might even go as far as to say he was the best looking individual I had ever seen, period, but it's not exactly like I was in the best mindset to be making those judgments.

He pulled me out of my musings by once again asking, "What's your name?"

"Oh, Edward, I already told you my name. It's Bambi." I said with a playful sigh.

"No, I mean what's your _real_ name?" he pressed. In an attempt to coax it out of me, he slipped another $20 in my garter belt.

"Thank you, Edward," I said politely. "My name is Bambi."

He furrowed his brows when I said this and got a determined look on his face as he said again, "Surely that hasn't always been the case. What's your _real_ _name_?" he asked again, being careful to touch only the material of the garter belt as he gave me yet another $20.

_What is this guy's deal? Give it a rest, buddy._ It's not like I hadn't faced this line of questioning before, but there was something about the insistent way he looked at me when he asked that made me slightly uncomfortable for the first time since I'd been in his presence this evening.

"Thank you, Edward," I said again as I sat up and moved myself within inches of his face before whispering firmly, "Still Bambi."

He gave a small, resigned sigh before looking at me with a nod, understanding that my answer was not going to change any time soon. As if to offer an apology, he reached into his wallet once more, this time pulling out a fifty dollar bill. However, unlike before where he made sure to touch only the garter belt, this time he reached out hesitantly and, without breaking eye contact, slipped his two fingers under the elastic, briefly making contact with the skin of my inner thigh before placing the crisp, folded bill underneath.

Although my face gave no outward signs of a reaction, there was no way I could ignore the way my body had responded when his fingers came into contact with my skin. I was almost tempted to look down and see if the skin itself was red, because it certainly felt like that small surface area was on fire given the way it was still tingling.

I chalked the reaction up to yet another way the drugs were currently affecting me. While I was thinking of it, I guess I should throw in the pounding in my chest as additional symptoms. Although it felt unusually strong at the moment, a racing heartbeat was not an uncommon occurrence when I was high.

"Thank you, Edward," I said, my voice a bit huskier than normal.

"You're welcome," he whispered back.

Now it was my turn to shake my head in an effort to clear it. I swiveled out of my position and shifted so that I was now kneeling next to him, sitting back on my heels. I crooked my elbow on the back of the couch and rested my head on my hand, making him feel like he had my full attention.

"Let's talk more about you, Edward," I said in my sweetest voice. "I now know where you work. What do you like to do for fun, besides coming to visit me?"

He looked at me for a moment, seeming to debate what he was about to say next before blowing out yet another, resigned, gust of breath. "Ummm… well, I've lived here in Chicago my whole life," he began. "I went to New Trier High School in Winnetka before I was accepted to Notre Dame on a full football scholarship…"

While I could tell he was leaving a few choice details out, he proceeded to launch into his full academic and athletic history, talking about his family and why he ultimately chose to get his graduate degree at Northwestern's school of journalism. He finished by talking about the past few months he had been working at the Tribune and his impressions of the job thus far.

When he paused after talking for so long, he seemed to be just as surprised as I was at the level of detail he had provided, and was now looking everywhere in the room but at me. In an attempt to make him feel more comfortable in the only way I knew how, I sat up on my knees and crawled over him so that I was now fully straddling him as I hovered above his lap.

His eyes widened in surprise as he leaned back, holding his hands away from me and looking nervously up at the ceiling before he said, "I- I thought you said no touching."

I smiled seductively at him, "I said no touching unless I invite it…. and I'm inviting it, Edward."

"Oh," he said, still looking unsure as he lowered his hands to his sides and making no move to touch me.

Not satisfied with how uncomfortable he still appeared to be, I placed my hands on either side of his head and sat down fully on his lap, grinding my hips into him as I did so.

"Oh God," he said with a groan as his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Let me help you feel _good_, Edward," I whispered into his ear. I'm not quite sure what I was preparing to offer him. I rarely ever suggested getting physical with a client, but this was one of the rare times where I was actually feeling some physical attraction and I figured I should seize the win-win opportunity.

Edward appeared to be fighting some sort of inner battle with himself because all he did in response was groan again and lean his head back on the couch as I continued to grind my hips into his. Well at least I could _feel_ the affect I was having on him.

Once more I was the one to take the initiative as I reached for the clasp between my breasts. This time I got as far as undoing it but before I could release my top fully Edward seemed to regain his senses and once again moved swiftly to stop me.

"No, please. There's no need to do that," he said softly as he placed his hands over mine, effectively holding my top closed. He gently pushed my hands aside and slowly redid the shiny clasp. With my fingers no longer occupied, my hands began their telltale shaking – something that did not escape his notice. He placed his hands over mine to stop their quivering and looked up into my eyes questioningly, "Are you okay?" he whispered.

Now _I_ was the one to get uncomfortable. It's not often someone comes in for a private dance and insists that I keep my clothes _on, _much less starts to look all concerned and questioning if I'm okay.

I pulled my hands free of his and gave him a cheerful but tight smile, "Why of course, Edward. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," he quickly insisted. He looked like he was about to say something else when I noticed the time on his watch.

"Oh! Unfortunately, it looks like our hour together is up." I rose from the couch and took a few steps away before turning and placing one foot on the space next to him and bending my knee towards him with my sweetest smile.

This time he reached into his wallet and pulled out _all_ of the remaining bills – what looked from my vantage point to be easily over $400 – and folded them in half around his index finger. Starting at my ankle and using both hands, he then slowly dragged his fingers up my calf and over my knee before coming to a stop at my garter belt. With both hands wrapped gently but firmly around my thigh, he slipped the thick fold of bills under my garter belt but made no move to release me as he looked up into my eyes.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening … Bambi," he said, using the same soft voice he had earlier.

Desperate to get out of the suddenly very warm room, I withdrew my leg from his grasp and stood.

"No, thank _you_, Edward," I said in what I hoped was a sexy sounding voice. "I had a wonderful time with you tonight and I do hope you'll come back and visit us again."

With that, I turned and sauntered confidently to the door. When my hand was on the door and I was about to cross the threshold, I turned and gave him perhaps my first sincere smile of the night.

"Good night, Edward," I said quietly.

**~***~**

As I stepped back into the hallway I was immediately jolted back into reality. Taking greedy gulps of cool, fresh air – well, air as fresh as one could get in a strip club – I leaned against the wall of the hallway and attempted to calm my breathing.

_What the fuck just happened??_

Not wanting to run into him again when he was leaving, I quickly undid my platform heels and slipped them off before gathering all the cash together that was gathered under my garter. I then dashed down the hallway barefoot and back into the "employees only" area to get to the dressing room.

When I got there, about half of the girls were still on stage while the other half were now back in front of their mirrors, wiping off their make-up and venting about the various characters that had been in the club tonight.

"I swear, one guy grabbed my tit so hard I thought my implant was going to pop," one girl said as the rest laughed loudly in response.

Me, I just wanted to get the hell out of there. It had been a long night and I was ready for that shower. Not wanting to waste time changing, I pulled on my jeans and long sleeved shirt over my two piece, slipped into my sneakers, and threw on my black goose down bomber jacket. I put the wad of cash from Edward into my back pocket, threw my bag over my shoulder, and left without a word to the other girls. I hadn't talked to Rose all night but I'd just have to call her tomorrow.

I pushed out the employee entrance and jogged across the dark parking lot and down the few blocks to the nearest L train and jumped on the blue line home.

Trudging up the steps to my apartment I was finally hit by the wave of exhaustion that had been hovering all night as I came down from my high. Locking the several deadbolts behind me, I dropped my bag and pulled out the cash from my back pocket. Flipping through it, I realized I had actually collected closer to $800 from Edward; apparently the majority of the bills had been fifties after all.

Smiling to myself as I thought about all the things I could do with the cash, I walked over and opened the top of Eloise's cage.

"Hi there, pretty girl," I said as I pulled the soft, white bunny in my arms. "Did you have a good day? I'm sorry it took me so long to get home," I murmured to her as I rubbed my cheek along her back and nuzzled her with my nose.

I had bought Eloise on a whim while walking through a street fair a few years ago and she was about as close to family as I got these days.

Setting her down on the carpet so she could stretch her legs, I moved towards the kitchen "alcove" and grabbed a glass from the shelf, filling it with water and drinking 3 glasses in quick succession.

I peeled myself out of my clothes, folding them over the lone chair I had in my apartment before walking to the bathroom and turning on the shower. By some small miracle I had amazing water pressure in this apartment and was looking forward to parking myself under the steady stream for a good half hour.

Stepping in, I let the hot water go to work on my tired muscles as I rested my forehead on the shower wall under the spout. Thoughts of James and his unwelcome advances sprang unwillingly into my mind and I immediately reached for the loofah and got to work scrubbing, hopefully taking the whole top layer of skin off my upper arms where he had wrapped his slimy fingers earlier.

Thankfully James never went farther than lewd, suggestive comments and the occasional graze of my skin. He knew just how far he could push without risking the loss of his most valuable source of income – me.

Nevertheless, his advances always left me feeling dirty and vulnerable – hence my need at the moment for some pharmaceutical intervention.

After a few more minutes under the water, I shut off the shower and climbed out. Wrapping myself in a towel, I reached under the sink for my small bag of toiletries. I was somehow blessed with a nearly flawless complexion so I was able to forego the normal skin care routine as long as I showered once a day.

Still, I needed to maintain a rigorous body lotion regimen in order to keep my skin firm and smooth. Hours on the pole could simultaneously chafe and callous certain parts of your body and by covering myself in lotion every night I was for the most part able to avoid both of those problems.

I also kept heavy duty make-up remover amongst my toiletries. It wasn't unusual for me to go through at least six cotton balls before it was all removed.

Finally satisfied that I had washed my face sufficiently enough to be down to my own layer of skin, I returned my toiletries bag to below the sink and opened my mirror cabinet to reveal what I had been thinking about the whole train ride home.

Looking at the shelves full of bottles in front of me, my hand hesitated in front of the Vicoden – my original target – before moving on to the Percocet. I think this day called for something a little stronger.

I opened the bottle and shook out four of the orange, 500mg pills into my palm before putting them in my mouth. I then turned the sink faucet on, cupped a few handfuls of water into my mouth, and swallowed them down.

I took a final look at myself in the mirror before shutting off the lights to the bathroom and stepping back into my small living room. I found Eloise huddled near the radiator trying to get closer to the warmth. _Maybe if gas wasn't so fucking expensive I'd be able to keep the place a bit warmer, _I thought to myself, unwilling to consider how I could be allocating my money more wisely.

I picked Eloise up and gave her another nuzzle before placing her back in her cage and moving it closer to the radiator. My eyelids were feeling decisively droopier and I knew I needed to lie down soon or I'd pass out on the living room floor … again.

I refilled Eloise's food dish and checked to make sure her water bottle was full before finally shutting off the lamp in the living room and stumbling to my room – or rather the four walls that barely enclosed my small bad and bedside table.

Dropping my towel, I clumsily pulled on a nightshirt, a pair of underwear and some wool socks before finally climbing into bed and pulling the comforter up to my chin.

In the final three seconds before the drug-induced sleep overtook me, a pair of piercing green eyes flashed through my mind and I drifted off with a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

**~***~**

**A/N: Whew. What do you guys think?? Any thoughts so far? Should I keep going?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I wish each of you could have been standing there with me to see how I did a solo happy dance every single time I got an email announcing one of you had added this story to your alert list or written me a review. Seriously. I feel so incredibly fickle that so often I bypass fics that are only a few chapters in while you guys took the time to read and offer your advice and encouragement. It's left me feeling so warm and fuzzy inside and, more importantly, it's made me so excited to get this story going! :)**

**~***~**

**Chapter 3**

**EPOV**

The clock next to me blinked 11:00am as I lay in my bed on Saturday morning replaying the events that had transpired the night before.

_Holy shit this girl is gorgeous,_ had been the first thought that crossed my mind as I had stepped into that private room. If I had thought she was beautiful watching her on the stage, nothing compared to seeing her up close.

It helped a great deal that she had clearly removed a lot of her eye make-up, which served to significantly soften her features. Her hair was no longer wet from her performance but it was clear she had rushed to dry it because her thick brown hair that had previously been straightened now had soft, gentle waves to it.

I knew I had babbled like a fucking idiot when she first spoke to me but how the hell was I supposed to maintain verbal function when she was wearing an outfit like the one she had on? While most of the dancers in the club had been wearing barely-there scraps of fabric, her midnight blue two piece ensemble had been almost… classy? Well, as classy an outfit as one could expect under the circumstances.

Up close her body was also even more amazing. She was clearly very toned and muscular and yet her skin still managed to look incredibly smooth and soft. The blue fabric of her outfit and the subtle, blue lighting made her skin take on an almost ethereal quality.

By the time I had pulled my act together enough to tell her my name and string a semi-coherent sentence together, she had shared the "rules" with me and then had suddenly made a move to take her top off. I don't know what led me to stop her – _heaven knows I would have undoubtedly appreciated what was underneath _– but for some reason I suddenly couldn't stand the idea of … cheapening … the moment.

_You were in a fucking strip club, Cullen, what did you expect??_

Still, some bizarre internal instinct had forced me to yell out for her to stop. She had clearly been surprised by my outburst but seemed more amused than anything else as she stood and willingly acquiesced to my request for a dance.

If I hadn't been so transfixed I would have laughed at my rookie need for her to remind me to tip her. And _fuck me_ if that garter belt wasn't the sexiest thing I had ever seen on a woman.

When she began to dance for me her whole face transformed. It was a combination of happiness, concentration and – peacefulness? Whatever it was, I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Once again I was beyond impressed with the strength and flexibility she demonstrated as she moved through various spins and positions on the pole. There was a gracefulness to her movements that made me completely forget the environment we were in and view her actions more as an art form than anything else.

Clearly there was much more to this girl than the average stripper and I was suddenly very curious to know more about her.

After she dismissively avoided my question about her name, I proceeded to tell her a bit more about myself. When I mentioned that I was a sports writer, a shadow flashed briefly across her eyes and I witnessed what I'm sure was the first genuine display of emotion she had revealed to me all evening.

Torn between wanting to know more about her and watching her do something that she was clearly enjoying, I finally gave in to my selfish curiosity and asked her to come join me on the couch to talk.

Once I had tipped her again and she was finally settled on the couch – and by "settled" I mean she sprawled suggestively in a way that made my pants suddenly feel two sizes too small – I resumed my questioning about her real name. I don't know why I was so persistent but after several requests reinforced with a heavy monetary incentive, something about the way her eyes flared with frustration and determination made me finally drop it.

By way of apology, I had given her a larger tip and as my fingers made contact with the soft skin of her inner thigh when I slid the bill under her garter belt my body's visceral reaction had been undeniable.

It reminded me of the time I had stuck a paper clip into an electrical socket during science lab back in high school. My arm had gone numb from my finger tips up through my entire arm before starting to tingle all over and then ultimately leaving me with a mild burning sensation. _Remind me not to touch this girl when I'm standing near any water._

In an additional effort to make her feel less personally scrutinized, I began to ramble on about myself. Before I knew it, I was opening up more and more about my family, school and my job and it suddenly occurred to me that I had said more to this girl in 20 minutes than I had to any of my co-workers in the past six months. Maybe even more than I had said to my own family in as much time as well.

Feeling like a bad cliché as the guy who comes in and pours his heart out at the strip club, I suddenly found myself taking particular interest in the light fixtures across the room.

She had clearly sensed my discomfort and took me by complete surprise as she crawled over and straddled my lap. Convinced 300 pound former linebackers were about to barge through the door at any moment and drag me away, I had recoiled from her immediately but then she took the opportunity to inform me that she _wanted_ to be sitting in my lap, touching me. _Well that changes things._

The next few minutes were a bit hazy in my memory because the aforementioned numbing, tingling, burning sensation had at that point overtaken my entire lower body as she ground her hips into me and whispered words about making me "feel good." No disrespect to my former girlfriends, but 30 seconds of this girl grinding into me had eclipsed every other attempt made in the past to "make me feel good"… and given my somewhat extensive physical history, that's saying quite a bit.

The sight of her unclasping her top made me suddenly regain cognitive function and once again some unnamed, unexpected instinct had me reaching forward to halt her efforts.

After redoing her clasp, I noticed that her hands were trembling and for the first time all night I realized there was a lot more to her glassy eyes than just the rush of performing for a "customer." On closer inspection I realized that she was definitely under the influence of some sort of stimulant and based on her dilated pupils and shaking hands I would venture the educated guess that it was coke.

With my hands still covering hers, I looked into her eyes and something powerful passed between us. For one split second the drug haze seemed to lift from her gaze and my heart faltered in my chest at the sheer, raw vulnerability I saw there.

In the blink of an eye – literally – the moment was over and her mask had been reaffixed stronger than ever. She withdrew her hands and stood abruptly. I went to reassure her that she had in no way made me uncomfortable but before I could get a word out she had made it clear that our time together was over.

I tipped her a final time and as much as I hated the reminder that I had been paying her to spend time with me, I pulled out every last remaining bill in my wallet – which amounted to a little over $700 – and slid it up her leg and under her garter belt.

With that, she had turned and left the room, but not before looking back at me one last time and giving me a small, gentle smile. That smile alone kept me rooted in my seat for the next ten minutes as I stared at the ceiling and thought about everything that just happened … and here I was twelve hours later _still_ thinking about it.

~***~

I was jolted back to reality by the sound of my phone buzzing on the table beside me. As I flipped it open and read the message I realized with a chuckle that even if I hadn't had it set on vibrate I'm sure it would have done so anyway given the ferocious warning Alice issued through her text if I wasn't on time to help her move into her apartment.

I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee brewing. While I was waiting, I stood at my floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out on Lake Michigan. It was a beautiful, clear October day and the view from my high-rise apartment never failed to impress me.

After throwing back a quick cup of coffee, I checked a few emails and glanced over some of the scouting reports for the college football games that were happening later in the afternoon. I took a shower but kept it quick because I knew I'd be getting sweaty helping Alice move in soon anyway.

I threw on some beat up jeans and an old t-shirt with '_Notre Dame Football' _written in faded lettering across the front before grabbing my jacket and keys and heading out the door.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I was walking toward the elevator and I looked down to see Alice's face flashing on the screen.

Before I had a chance to even say hello, my charming sister was yelling into the phone, "Edward Anthony Cullen, so help me God, if you aren't here by 12 o'clock I will have wall-to-wall pink carpeting installed in your bachelor bad so fast—"

Rolling my eyes, I cut her off, "I'm just leaving my apartment now, Al. I'll be there in 10."

"You better. Drive safe," she said before hanging up on me.

Chuckling to myself, I exited the elevator and got in my car, punching in the address for Alice's new apartment in my GPS as I went.

When I pulled up, a large U-Haul was parked outside and I could see Alice and Jasper struggling to pick up a couch that was still sitting inside the truck. I parked my car and jumped out to help them, grabbing the couch at Alice's end and maneuvering it down the ramp backwards with Jasper.

"Edward! Thank goodness you're here." Alice said with relief.

"Yeah, man. Thank _goodness. _You just missed Alice's portfolio of color sketches she has done for her closet layout," Jasper said with an exaggerated eye roll. The smile on his face and the look in his eye overshadowed any hint of actual whining, however.

Jasper had been my roommate through all four years of college and he had started dating Alice the summer prior to our junior year, before Alice was set to matriculate as a freshman in the fall. I began having suspicions after Alice started dropping in more and more often just to visit "her dear, beloved brother" at college but it wasn't until I walked in on them during a family vacation and found Jasper with his hands down her pants that all shadow of a doubt had been removed.

One fist fight, two split lips, a full bottle of Jack Daniels, and a few man-hugs later and I was finally able to accept the fact that he was serious about his feelings for her. Four years later and they were stronger than ever.

For the next 90 minutes Jasper and I hauled boxes, clothes, furniture, clothes, artwork, and more clothes up to Alice's apartment while she stood shouting directions about where everything should go. Leave it to Alice to forego moving into a nice, high-rise apartment with an_ elevator_ in favor of a three story walk up in the interest of being more "cozy chic."

Despite the cool October air, I was still soaked through with sweat by the time we collapsed onto Alice's leather couch.

"A little thank you present for my two favorite gentlemen in the whole wide world," Alice said with a smile as she set a 12-pack of ice cold Budweiser down on the coffee table in front of us. "I'm going to get started on unpacking in my bedroom. I put sandwiches in the fridge and there's more beer if you guys want it. Thank you both so much again for helping. I owe you both a big, home cooked meal at some point in the very near future." With that, she kissed us both on top of our sweaty heads and skipped off to her new room.

I cracked a beer and passed it to Jasper before opening one for myself and sitting back on the couch.

We sat in exhausted, comfortable silence for a few minutes before Jasper said with a chuckle, "Hey man, I forgot to ask, how was Yorkie's bachelor party last night?"

"Yeah, thanks a fucking lot for abandoning me in the fox hole," I said while shooting him a stern look. "Yorkie was fine but Newton, per usual, was in top form making a complete ass of himself left and right. He got absolutely wasted and ended up putting his credit card down for a private dance before attempting to assault one of the guys that worked there and then ultimately hauling ass out of there to puke. The look on his face when the bouncer had him up against the wall outside the private room was priceless—"

"Wait—how the hell did you see him when he was outside the private room?" Jasper interjected. "Wasn't it at Electric Blue? Last time I was there with those idiots I recall those rooms being down a hallway in the back of the club."

_Why the fuck did Jasper have to be so fucking astute??_

"Oh that," I stalled. "Yeah, I just happened to be on my way to take a piss when I heard Newton shouting so I went over to lend a hand but he ran off to boot pretty much right as I got there. After-he-left-the-bouncer-kind-of-let-me-take-his-private-dance-because-it-was-already-paid-for, too." I mumbled quickly.

"What was that??" Jasper said skeptically, "Did you say you took his dance?"

I gave a jerky nod. _Why the fuck was I telling him this?_

Jasper barked a laugh, "Ha! Good for you, Cullen. It's about time you got some. And hey--no judgment here," he said with an angelic smile.

"Nah, man. It didn't end up being like that. This girl – the stripper or whatever – was actually a really good fucking dancer."

"Yeah I bet she was," Jasper said with a grin.

"No. I mean like she was actually a really good pole dancer. Fuck—this isn't coming out right. I guess you had to see it. But trust me, she was unlike anything I had ever seen."

_Honestly, someone just get me a fucking muzzle._

Ever perceptive, Jasper arched an eyebrow at me. "Oh really? So what did you end up doing while you were in there? Just have a nice little chat?"

_Actually, pretty much._

"Ummm… yeah. We talked for a bit and she did some moves on her pole or whatever. But I dunno man. There was just something about this girl. I can't stop thinking about her for some fucking reason. Maybe you're right, though. Maybe it's just been too fucking long since I got laid."

Jasper rolled his eyes at me and said, "Please, Cullen. You know I was joking. I think you got enough tail in college to last you the next twenty years. I don't have enough appendages to count how many times I was sexiled from our room those first two years."

I laughed bitterly, "Yeah, well. Those days are surely behind me. Regardless, I obviously have no reason to see this girl again anyway so I guess it was just a random one-time thing."

Jasper was quiet for a moment before giving a small shrug and not asking any more questions.

_I knew there was a reason this guy was my best friend._

We talked a bit about the Bears game that was happening on Sunday and our respective predictions for the college games that were playing out as we spoke.

Jasper was actually the one who had gotten me the job at The Tribune. At 25, he was already one of the most well-known sports photographers in the country and his work was constantly used in Associated Press, ESPN and numerous private publications' content. Despite multiple job offers, he chose to remain on the sports desk at The Tribune so he could be near Alice and have a normal life that kept days on the road covering games to a minimum.

After an hour or so Alice came out and sat with us.

"Are you still going to visit Grams tomorrow?" she asked as she grabbed a beer and snuggled into Jasper's lap.

"Yeah, it's been way too fucking long since I've seen her. I feel horrible about it."

Alice nodded and said, "I was just there two weeks ago and she was asking all about you. You know Grams, she understands that you're busy and loves you no matter what. Will you be sure to tell her I say hi?"

"Of course," I said with a smile.

I stood up and stretched, wincing as I started to feel the effects of lifting heavy furniture all afternoon.

"OK, you two. I'm gonna head home. Kick-off for the Michigan game is in half an hour and I need 1,000 words on Tanya's desk about it by tomorrow morning."

"Good luck with that, bro." Jasper said as we bumped fists. "See you Monday."

Alice stood and walked me to the door. "Thank you again for your help today, big brother of mine. I know I can be a little… demanding," she said with a small laugh, "but it was such a nice excuse to get some time with you."

The familiar feeling of guilt washed through me as I stared down at Alice and realized it was the first time we had spent a significant amount of time together in over two months.

"It was good seeing you, too, Al." I said as I bent to give her a hug. "Let's get dinner soon."

Her eyes brightened at the invitation, "I'm holding you to that," she said with a finger in my face as I laughed down at her. "I love you, Edward," she said as she hugged me one last time.

"Love you, too, Al. The new place looks great. I'll call you soon."

"Sounds good. Don't forget to say hi to Grams for me!"

"Will do."

With that, I climbed back into the car and headed home.

True to my plan, when I got back to my apartment I grabbed my lap top, flicked on the Michigan-Indiana game, and spent the rest of the evening drafting my column for the upcoming week.

Exhausted by the long day, I went to bed around 11pm and fell asleep just as memories of a certain pair of big, brown eyes started to creep back to the forefront of my conscious.

**~***~**

It was early Sunday afternoon by the time I swung my Volvo into the parking lot at Green Acres retirement home after the 30 minute drive up to Evanston. As I shut off the ignition, I reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed the pink gardenias I had picked up at the local florist. Grams always said they were her favorite because they kept their nice smell the longest and therefore she could be reminded of me all week.

Grams was my father's mother and my only surviving grandparent. She was 84 years old but the twinkle in her eye always betrayed her eternal youth. Anyone who spent five minutes in a room with Grams knew without a doubt who Alice had inherited her relentless energy and enthusiasm from.

After my grandfather had died two years ago, Grams had refused to move in with my parents no matter how hard they tried to persuade her. Even though she continued to be in perfectly good health – walking 2 miles every day and single-handedly overseeing Green Acres' social events calendar – she insisted that she would be a burden and so within two months of the funeral she had sold the house she had lived in for 35 years and moved to Green Acres.

I hated how long it had been since I had come to see her but, like my parents, she seemed to possess an incomprehensible capacity for unconditional love and her face never showed anything but pure joy whenever I walked through the door.

Historically the only times I had ever been to visit were on the weeknights because normally on the weekends I was either covering games or completing my community service. However, when it dawned on me a week ago that I hadn't been to visit Grams in over a month I knew I had to make a bigger effort and I thought the gesture of coming to visit on the weekend might be a good start.

.

_Green Acres was a much livelier place on the weekends than it was during the weeknights._ As I strolled across the courtyard I had to step aside as a group of senior citizens in track suits briskly walked past me on their way to get some exercise. As I entered the main foyer, I noticed a book group engaging in a lively debate in the nearby sitting room while the crooning of Bing Crosby and the soft shuffle of couples dancing could be heard from the nearby rec room.

After confirming with one of the staff members I recognized that my grandmother was in the main sitting room, I set off down the hallway in the direction she had pointed me. When I got there, the room that was normally used as a card and game room had been transformed into a makeshift beauty salon. White plastic coverings had been placed over the tables as dozens of female residents – and even some of the men – sat getting manicures and hand massages.

As I scanned the room I finally spotted Grams in the back corner thanks to her unmistakable, signature hair.

Once when I was eleven and Alice was nine, Grams had been babysitting us and Alice had thrown a temper tantrum insisting that she give us both makeovers with her new "beauty kit" she had received for her birthday. I had outright refused but Grams – being Grams – had immediately offered herself up as a human sacrifice.

Little did we know that Alice had also recently overheard some girls at school talking about how they had dyed their hair with Kool-aid when they had been at sleepover camp the previous summer. Wanting to make Grams "cool" too, Alice had secretly combined the powdered drink mixture with the shampoo she was using on Grams. When Alice ultimately pulled the towel off, Grams' hair had acquired a distinct and unmistakable pink hue.

Alice had no idea that it would turn out that way and subsequently locked herself away in the bathroom crying hysterically and begging Grams to forgive her. Grams – again, _being Grams_ – insisted that it was exactly what she had wanted all along and told Alice she couldn't wait to "book her next appointment."

True to her word, Grams never changed her hair back – even when Alice was old enough to know better – and to this day insists that her hair stylist always leave her otherwise white hair with a slight pink tinge to it.

I smiled to myself at the memory as I weaved my way through the tables and towards Grams.

She was sitting at a table facing me with her hands outstretched while she was getting her nails done.

Her face broke into a huge smile when she looked up and saw me walking towards her. "Edward, sweetheart. I'm so glad you came!" she said. "I'll give you a hug in one second but Bella here is just finishing up with my topcoat."

I had reached her at this point and bent to kiss her on the cheek. "Grams, you're looking fantastic, as usual. It's so wonderful to see you."

The sound of a small gasp caught my attention as I stood back up and turned to look at the person who was giving Grams her manicure.

_No…fucking…way._

I had heard the expression "time standing still" before but I never grasped what it meant until that very moment.

Sitting at the table right in front of me… across from my own, flesh-and-blood grandmother … was Bambi – or apparently _Bella_ – owner of the brown eyes that had been haunting my thoughts for the past 36 hours.

Her hair was down and loose, even wavier than it had been on Friday night and from what I could tell she wasn't wearing even an ounce of make-up on her face. She had on a simple pair of jeans and a navy blue long-sleeve shirt.

_I had never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life._

For one millisecond I entertained the idea that maybe I was mistaken, but one look into the big brown eyes that were currently mirroring what I'm sure what my own gobsmacked expression and I knew it was her.

It could have been one second or it could have been five minutes but I was suddenly brought back to reality by Grams' gently coughing at my side.

"Are those flowers for me, sweetheart?" she asked with a smile, eyeing the gardenias that I was still holding.

"Oh, yes. Sorry, Grams," I said with a flush as I set them down on the table next to her before turning my attention back to Bambi—er, Bella. To her credit, she had completely recomposed herself and was now focusing intently on Grams' nails.

I, on the other hand, was still standing mouth-agape as I stared down at the top of her head.

Once again, Grams pulled me out of my mental stupor, "Edward, sweetheart. Forgive me. I haven't introduced you properly. This is my dear friend, Bella. She comes here almost every single Sunday and either gives me a beautiful manicure, or reads to me or we listen to music together," she said with a broad smile. "Bella, this is my amazing grandson, Edward Cullen."

Bella and I stared at each other for what I'm sure was another good twenty seconds before she took the initiative, reaching out and extending her hand toward me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Edward," she said softly, looking me right in the eyes.

"Nice to meet you as well… Bella," I said as I reached out and wrapped my hand around hers. The second our skin made contact the numbing, burning, tingling sensation once again spread up my arm and any residual shred of doubt I had that this was not the girl from Friday night instantly evaporated.

Suddenly Grams was talking again, "I'm so glad you two have finally met! Poor Bella must have to go home and ice her ears every weekend given how much I go on and on about my favorite grandson, famous sports writer at the Chicago Tribune!"

Understanding flashed across Bella's eyes and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she mentally chastising herself for not putting the pieces together herself on Friday night.

"Edward, dear. Will you be playing for us this afternoon?" Grams asked, a new twinkle suddenly appearing in her eye as she glanced back and forth between Bella and me.

I hesitated briefly before sternly reminding myself the reason I came, "Of course, Grams. If that would make you happy," I said with a small smile.

Grams nodded in excitement before suddenly saying, "Oh! If you two will excuse me, I think I see Barbara Bradley. She still owes me five dollars from poker the other night, I better go collect." she said with a sly smile. "Bella, sweetheart. Thank you so much again for my beautiful manicure. You'll stay for a bit longer, won't you? Your train isn't until 4, correct?"

Bella hesitated briefly before responding politely, "Of course Mrs. Cullen."

"Oh fantastic, that means you can stay to hear Edward play!" she said as she gave me a quick not-so-subtle wink before turning and walking across the room to find Mrs. Bradley.

I slowly sat down in the seat Grams had just vacated, not taking my eyes off of the brunette sitting across the table.

She stared back into my eyes for a moment before breathing out a soft laugh and saying, "Of all the Cullens in all the towns in all the world, you had to walk into my club," she said with a small smile as she offered her own twist on Casablanca.

Still unable to formulate any type of coherent response, I sat and looked into her eyes for another several seconds. In that timeframe, I noticed that her eyes were a different kind of glassy today. There was more of a faraway look to them than the hectic, over stimulated way they had been on Friday night.

Clearly uncomfortable with my relentless scrutiny, she looked down and began fidgeting with her hands before giving a small huff of frustration and making a move to start collecting the nail polish bottles.

Realizing that she was about to leave I broke the silence by asking the first question that came to my mind, "So… why Bambi?"

Stopping her efforts to clean, she sat back in her seat, looking down at her hands again as she seemed to be debating her response. After a long minute she gave a small resigned sigh and answered, "When I first came to Chicago, my boss – James – was the first person I met and he was the one who hired me. He gave me the nickname Bambi because he said my eyes reminded him of the deer from the Disney movies. At the time I was perfectly open to the idea of assuming a new identity so I just kind of let it go and then it just stuck. There are only a few people who know my actual name – your grandmother being one of them."

As much as I hated to agree – especially given the way she seemed to physically tense when she mentioned the name of her boss – I had to admit her big brown eyes certainly did have a doe-like quality to them.

I could tell there was a great deal of subtext behind her comments about wanting to assume a new identity but decided not to push her on it. I was honestly surprised she offered up the information that she did.

"Well I think Bella is a beautiful name," I said quietly.

Her eyes darted up to mine briefly and she looked like she was about to say something when Grams came back to the table.

"Sorry to leave you like that right when you just got here, sweetheart," Grams said with a smile as she put her hand on my shoulder. "My memory goes so quickly these days, though, and I needed to collect from that sneaky Barbara Bradley before I forgot," she said with a jokingly stern voice.

"So, how about that beautiful music you promised me?" Grams said brightly. "I think we should use the main music room in the East wing – the acoustics are the best in there." Turning to Bella, she said, "Let's all walk over together."

Bella smiled a soft and beautiful, genuine smile at my grandmother as she said, "I'll be right there, Mrs. Cullen. You go on ahead, I'm just going to clean up here and then I'll be right over."

"Okay, sweetheart. That sounds great. Although don't be too long or you'll only get to listen to Edward for a few minutes before you have to leave for your train."

"I'd be happy to give Bella a ride back to the city," I offered quietly, as Bella's head shot up to look at me with surprise. I smiled as I continued, "If you need one, that is."

Before she had a chance to answer, Grams – whose face was now lit up like it was Christmas morning – said, "Oh, that's perfect!"

"Oh no, really. That's okay. I'm sure I'm entirely out of your way," Bella insisted quickly.

"Nonsense, you live in central Chicago, correct? That's right near Edward. No more discussion, it's settled. Edward can give you a ride," my grandmother countered definitively.

_Again… and they wonder where Alice gets it from…._

Bella's shoulder slumped slightly in defeat but she gave Grams a courteous smile before turning to me and saying, "That's very kind of you, Edward. Thank you."

"It's no trouble at all," I replied.

"Excellent! Well we'll be in the music room then. Come find us soon, Bella. And thank you again for my manicure. Hot pink is definitely my color," she said with a wiggle of her fingers and a quick wink.

Grams then hooked her arm through mine and led me out of the room and toward the East wing of Green Acres.

Ten minutes later I was settled on the piano bench surrounded by Grams and some of her fellow residents at Green Acres as I ran through a heated and emotional Rachmaninoff piece. I moved on to some Bach and then eventually some George Gershwin, because the current generational demographic at Green Acres seemed to always get a whimsical twinkle in their eye whenever I played _Rhapsody in Blue_ or one of his more musical numbers.

As I was finishing up Gershwin's _Someone to Watch Over Me_, I looked up just in time to see Bella had slipped into the back of the room and was now sitting next to an elderly man on a faded green couch.

"Play some Chopin, Edward. You know he's my favorite," Grams requested softly from her seat close to the piano bench.

I smiled at her as I paused for a second before deciding which piece I would play first. I closed my eyes briefly before I rested my fingers on the keys and began playing the soft opening chords of Chopin's Nocturne in C-sharp minor (1830). It was a short piece but it was the first work of Chopin I had learned when I had taken up piano as a boy. As such, the piece was burned into my memory so strongly that I was able to close my eyes a few bars in and play the whole song with my eyes closed. It surprised me that the piece still seemed to register with me on such a deep emotional level.

As I was nearing the end of the song, I slowly opened my eyes and lifted my head. There were small sighs and murmurs of appreciation from my captive audience but the one individual whose opinion I was most curious of had her eyes closed, head bowed and her shoulders hunched.

As the final chords of the piece rang out softly throughout the music room, I saw Bella raise her head just in time for me to notice a single, lone tear work its way slowly down her cheek.

_There is certainly so much more to this girl than meets the eye_, I thought to myself again for what must have been the tenth time over the course of the two brief encounters I had had with her thus far.

I couldn't stop the small smile that played at my lips as I found myself thinking with silent determination, _And I can't wait to figure out just what it is that makes this girl so heart falteringly unforgettable to me._

~***~

**A/N: Any thoughts? Would love to hear what your impressions are so far! Thanks so much for reading. xo**


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Just a super quick note to say another HUGE thank you to each and every one of you who has read and/or reviewed. Your advice and encouragement in these early days has meant more to me than you can possibly imagine! xo**_

**Disclaimer**_**: **_**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, its plot and all of its characters. I own Electric Blue.**

**WARNING: Drug use is a prevalent aspect of this chapter. You have been warned. **

_~***~_

**BPOV**

I remember when I was younger my mom Renee used to collect those silly snow globes, one of which played that super annoying song _It's a Small World _from the Disney theme park ride. Although I hadn't thought about that thing in quite some time, for some reason it immediately sprang to mind the moment I locked in on those emerald eyes for the second time in 48 hours. _ I mean, what are the odds??_

In the two and a half years I had been coming to Green Acres, my two worlds had never crossed. It's not that I was ashamed of the way I made my living, I just logically understood that being an exotic dancer was not something you brought up proactively in conversation with the elderly.

With the exception of Emmett and Rose, Mrs. Cullen was one of the only people I had come to trust and care about since I had come to Chicago. I would have included Demetri in that group as well, had he not passed away a year ago from liver cancer.

I had instantly gravitated toward Mrs. Cullen when I began volunteering at Green Acres because she was the only one who never pushed me to talk about my past, and yet always seemed to remember every detail I revealed in confidence. Moreover, she never made comments when my hands occasionally shook, when I dozed off when we were listening to music, or even the few times when I hadn't shown up at all.

More than anything, though, I had become close with Mrs. Cullen because she reminded me so much of my own grandmother, Marie. _Gran._ Every kind word, every nice gesture, every soft touch made by Mrs. Cullen always made my heart clench at the memory of the person who had mattered most to me in the entire world.

When Mrs. Cullen spoke about her family – which was _often_ – she got a look in her eye that I had often seen in Gran's eye when she looked at me. It was a look of unconditional love and it was always coupled with a personality whereby her loved ones' highs were her highs, and their lows were her lows.

I couldn't count the number of times Mrs. Cullen had talked about her son, a prestigious doctor, and his beautiful wife, a successful interior designer. However, she was much, much more loquacious when it came to discussing her grandchildren.

The fact that I hadn't been able to put two-and-two together on Friday night about Edward being her grandson was enough to make me almost consider giving up coke … _almost._

Still, I was frustrated with myself that I hadn't foreseen the possibility of this type of thing happening. I did not like being out of control in my environment and the instant I had looked up and seen those piercing green eyes boring into mine that was exactly how I had felt.

Thankfully, I had been able to recover myself fairly quickly – although the same couldn't be said for Edward. As I extended my hand to "introduce" myself he had stared at it for so long I was a millisecond away from shooting him a look that clearly said, _"Pull it together here, Buddy."_

However, that would have further revealed my discomfort with the situation and I was grasping to regain what little control I had as it was.

Maybe it was how unnaturally good looking he was, maybe it was the unexpected situation I now found myself in, or maybe it was the way he seemed to be looking right through me when those green eyes were trained on mine… whatever it was, there was something about this particular individual that in the few times we had interacted he had managed to fluster me to the point of distraction – something that I _never_ allowed to happen.

I had just succeeded in pushing all those thoughts aside when my skin made contact with his once again.

In that moment it took all my strength not to rip my hand from his grip and run from the room to look for the nearest bucket of ice as the intense burning sensation took up residence in my hand. _Maybe I'm allergic to his laundry detergent? _Still, an allergic reaction wouldn't explain the way the air seemed to charge around us. No, if there was any explanation for this reaction it was definitely the drugs. As such, I once again dismissed the peculiar topical response and withdrew my hand as soon as it was socially acceptable to do so.

Before I had a chance to excuse myself, Mrs. Cullen jumped in and asked Edward if he would be playing piano for her during his visit.

A brief look of discomfort flashed across his face before he responded to his grandmother, and I interpreted the look to mean that he probably wasn't that good. I felt a bit of sympathy for him. I certainly wouldn't want to get up and bang my way through Chopsticks in front of a crowd, even if the majority of them were hard of hearing.

My internal musings once again cost me my window of time to exit because Mrs. Cullen was suddenly making up some bizarre excuse about collecting poker winnings and then turned her excited, expectant eyes on me to see if I would stay and listen to Edward play.

I was a total sucker for that look of Mrs. Cullen's – _honestly, she should get a patent on that thing_ – and I knew as soon as she pointed it in my direction I knew I had no choice but to politely acquiesce.

Before I knew it she was off across the room and Edward was sitting down across the table from me, staring at me with a bemused expression on his face and still not saying a word.

I attempted to break the awkward silence by throwing out my own version of a Casablanca quote to make sure he understood that I was, in fact, greatly surprised to be seeing him at Green Acres less than 48 hours after meeting him at Electric Blue.

Still … no response.

_What the hell was his problem??_

My patience was wearing thin at this point and if he thought I was just going to sit there while he stared at me like some kind of circus freak he had another thing coming.

I made no effort to conceal my frustration and instead began cleaning up the manicure supplies. If I hurried, perhaps I could make the 3:30 train. I hated the idea of breaking my promise to Mrs. Cullen but I was quickly realizing I couldn't spend another five minutes in the presence of her grandson.

Just when I was about to make my move to get up, he finally spoke up by inquiring about the origins of "Bambi."

I searched his face for any trace of smugness at having found out my real name but I didn't see anything but genuine interest in my answer.

Relieved to at least have him talking, I sat back down and decided to give him the basic truth but left out a lot of choice details … like how I had been practically starved to death and living in a bus station when James had found me. I had been sleeping on a bench with my dirty arms wrapped around my small backpack when I felt someone gently shaking me awake.

Apparently he had been walking by and heard me screaming from a nightmare I had been having. I remember sitting up and seeing what I thought was a pair of kind, friendly eyes staring down at me. _Wow, was I bad judge of character. _He had given me $50 and his blue business card and said, "Come find me if you're looking for a job and some good money, Bambi." It took me two weeks to spend that fifty dollars before I finally did go looking for him.

I was brought back from my trip down memory lane by Edward softly telling me that he thought Bella was a beautiful name.

I felt a small smile tugging at my lips and for a moment I contemplated telling him that my full name was actually _Isabella_ but before I had a chance Mrs. Cullen had appeared back at the table and announced she was ready to hear Edward play.

Noticing the clock on the wall, I realized that by the time I cleaned up and got over to the music room I'd only have a few minutes to actually listen to him play before I had to leave for my train.

Astute as ever, Mrs. Cullen also realized that I would be short on time and no sooner had she voiced her observation that Edward was chiming in with an offer to give me a ride home.

For some reason the idea of being alone in an enclosed space with him made me anxious and my mind started racing as it tried to think of viable excuses.

However, the combination of my drug-addled brain and Mrs. Cullen's beaming smile left me utterly defenseless and I once again found myself politely agreeing to something I would have otherwise declined.

Hopefully his piano playing wouldn't be _too _painful and we could get on the road quickly so I could get home to Eloise and the contents currently residing in the top drawer of my bedside table.

~***~

I stalled for a bit as I cleaned up the manicure supplies, not in any rush to get to the East wing music room any time soon. I took extra time to screw the tops of all the nail polish bottles on tightly and stopped briefly to help one of the Green Acres staff members clear off some of the other tables.

With nothing left to do, I finally began the slow walk to the music room. The East wing was on the opposite side of the property and if I walked slowly I could probably drag it out an extra five minutes.

As I finally made my way down the hall to the music room and the distant tinkling of a piano reached my ears, my first thought was that someone had left a CD playing in a nearby room. I stopped and poked my head in a few of the rooms nearest me but found them all empty. As I walked further I quickly ascertained that the music was, in fact, coming from the music room.

As I walked a few steps closer I finally heard the familiar strains of George Gershwin floating towards me and I physically faltered and had to reach for a nearby wall as the memories suddenly assaulted me.

_Gran, in the kitchen, twirling me around as we listened to Ella Fitzgerald singing Gershwin's "Funny Face" … Gran, tucking me in at night as she sang Gershwin's "S' Wonderful" … Gran, in the hospital while I sang "Someone to Watch Over Me" softly at her bedside._

I leaned with my back against the wall with my hand to my chest and my eyes squeezed closed as I attempted to calm my breathing. I was used to memories of Gran being evoked at Green Acres all the time, but for some reason hearing the music made the memories infinitely more acute and therefore that much more painful.

I took a deep, shaky breath and recomposed myself before walking the final few steps to the music room and slipped in the back. I sat down on the sofa next to an elderly man I recognized as one of Mrs. Cullen's bridge partners.

Watching and hearing Edward play the piano was about as close to a religious experience as I had had in recent memory. He looked so relaxed and confident and … content … sitting on the piano bench. It occurred to me that he had spent the majority of our interactions sufficiently flustered and this was the most peaceful I had ever seen him.

As he finished up the Gershwin I saw Mrs. Cullen lean over and whisper something softly to him before he nodded in response.

He then placed his hands on the keys and began playing the most hauntingly beautiful song I think I had ever heard. When he closed his eyes, I felt mine do the same as the soft music began to fill the music room.

Mrs. Cullen was right, the acoustics really were amazing in this room.

The sound waves washed over me the way heat waves rise from asphalt on a hot day. I kept my eyes closed and my head bowed and felt myself gently swaying as I listened to him play.

It took me a good thirty seconds to register what was happening as the unfamiliar pinpricks started to work their way along the rims of my eyes.

I was so caught up in the music that the full shock of shedding my first tear in over ten years didn't truly sink in until I lifted my head and felt the wetness running down my cheek.

I slowly lifted my hand to my face and ran my fingers under my eye before bringing them down into my line of vision as I stared at the clear moisture gathered on my fingertips in confusion. _Why now? Why this?_

All questions faded into the fogginess of my brain as I looked up to find Edward playing the final chords of the song while staring at me with his head cocked slightly to the side and a kind but curious expression on his face.

He gave me a gentle, cautious smile before politely acknowledging the applause the now filled the room.

I needed to pull myself together – and fast. I was losing a complete grip on my control and was starting to feel a bit like a caged animal as I stared anxiously at the clock.

Edward seemed to sense my discomfort and after a few more songs – which I made a point of tuning out by singing "Row, row, row your boat…" in my head over and over lest I suffer another emotional lapse – he made a gracious excuse to his audience and rose from the piano bench.

I felt badly that he was cutting his visit with Mrs. Cullen short on my account but felt somewhat better when I heard him tell her he would come back and visit her next weekend.

As I gave Mrs. Cullen a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek she pulled me close and whispered in my ear, "Promise me this won't be the last time I see you."

I leaned back out of her hug and looked down at her hurt and anxious expression. _How on Earth had she known those thoughts had been running through my mind? _

I thought about what she was asking for a moment and realized that the idea of not seeing Mrs. Cullen ever again hurt more than the pain and anxiety that had resulted from this particular visit. _I would just have to ensure that none of my trips to Green Acres ever overlapped with Edward again_, I thought to myself.

"Of course this isn't the last time you will see me, Mrs. Cullen," I smiled reassuringly. I bent to kiss her on the cheek once more and she seemed somewhat comforted by my response.

She squeezed my hand before turning to Edward, "You drive safely now, you hear?" she said as she pointed to me and continued, "You're carrying precious cargo."

At that moment, yet another first in over ten years occurred as the Isabella Swan of my childhood made a return as I felt my cheeks warm and I blushed pink.

Edward chuckled softly – whether it was at his grandmother's comment or at my reaction I can't be sure because I was suddenly focusing intently on a ceramic pot across the room in a futile attempt to cool my cheeks – but did nothing more than place his hand gently on Mrs. Cullen's arm and say, "I know, Grams, I will."

I turned swiftly on my heel and left the room with purposeful strides, stopping only to collect my bag and coat from the front desk before continuing out to the general parking lot.

Edward was walking quietly a few paces behind me the whole time but when I turned to ask him where his car was parked he placed a gentle hand on my lower back and steered me toward a silver Volvo parked in a nearby space.

I tried to ignore the way his hand felt on my back. I tried to ignore the way my breath caught when he didn't stop walking until he was at the passenger side of the car, opening my door for me. And I _really _tried to ignore the way my lower muscles tightened in the most pleasant of ways when he put on his ray ban sunglasses and walked around the front of the car, the wind blowing his copper hair into perfect disarray.

As soon as he shut his door behind him and started the engine, I turned to him and said, "Thank you again for the ride, Edward. Honestly, I'm sure my apartment is out of your way so please feel free to drop me off at the closest train station. Seriously."

He rolled his eyes at me before saying, "_Seriously, _it's really not a problem, Bella. As Grams said, I live right in the middle of the city so just give me directions as we get closer."

Maybe it was just the fact the he was the first new person in a long time to learn my real name but something about hearing Edward call me _Bella_ left me with a small, goofy smile as I stared out the window and mumbled a quiet "okay" into the hand my chin was leaning on.

.

The moment we were officially off the Green Acres property I felt myself regaining some of my usual confidence. Still, this afternoon had been unexpectedly draining and I wanted something to steady my nerves.

Casting a sideways glance at Edward, I mentally shrugged my shoulders before digging through my bag and pulling out a prescription bottle. I couldn't be sure of what exactly I was taking, as I had a tendency to just throw all of the meds that fell under the "calming, anti-anxiety" umbrella in one bottle. I figured two would be sufficient to get me through the car ride home and placed them in my mouth, swallowing them without water.

I looked over at Edward who was staring down at the bottle in my hands before he looked up at me and cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"Vitamins," I answered with a sarcastic wink.

He clearly did not buy my explanation for a second but, to his credit, he returned his eyes to the road and didn't press the issue further.

We drove in silence for a few minutes and I leaned my head back on the headrest as I slowly began to feel my muscles relax while the medication started to work their way through my system.

"So how long have you been coming to Green Acres?" Edward asked quietly as we pulled onto the highway, breaking the silence.

I took a moment to debate just how much I was willing to reveal about myself to him. On the one hand, I didn't really like the idea of encouraging his insatiable curiosity. On the other, I had already resolved that I would most likely never see him again, so it couldn't hurt to throw him a few, select facts. Besides, it was the least I could do given his nice gesture to give me a ride home.

I took a deep breath before answering in a steady voice, "I began volunteering a little over two and a half years ago. My grandmother Marie was a very important person to me when I was younger and pretty much raised me single handedly. Gran was actually the one who put me in dance lessons when I was about five years old because I was incredibly clumsy as a child." I paused to laugh softly at the memory, "I could barely walk across a room without tripping over my own feet. Gran had been a famous ballet dancer in the 1950s and thought enrolling me in classes would help with my balance and coordination – and it did. I fell in love with dancing and I've been doing it – in some form – ever since."

I took a moment to glance over at Edward, who was nodding intently at my story while keeping his eyes on the road.

Encouraged by his willingness to listen without interjecting, I continued, "Gran died when I was ten years old, but working with the elderly has always been something that I thought was important and enjoy doing. When I first came to Chicago I met a man named Demetri one day when I was walking in Humboldt Park. He told me I reminded him of his granddaughter and that he was moving to Green Acres soon.

"He then asked me if I would come visit him because his granddaughter lived in London and he had no other family in the area. Three weeks later I showed up to volunteer and your grandmother never let me leave." I said this with a smile as I thought back to that warm spring day when Mrs. Cullen had strong armed me – literally – into overseeing the bingo tournament she was running.

"Yes, you've clearly won Grams over," he said with a kind smile, before muttering quietly, "I can see why."

Unwilling to let myself lose control of the situation again, I quickly replied, "Yes, well, I can't imagine your grandmother disliking anyone. She has more energy and enthusiasm than all the other residents at Green Acres combined."

Taking the bait to switch subjects, Edward responded, "Yes, Grams definitely seems to have her own, independent energy source. You should see how it's been genetically re-gifted to my younger sister, Alice," he said with a fond smile.

Ahh, yes. I had heard Mrs. Cullen talk at length about her granddaughter, Alice, the aspiring event planner. I knew the polite thing would be to pick up on Edward's social queue and ask him more about his sister but more questions meant becoming more personal, and I did not desire to _do _personal with Edward any more than we had already so far today.

As I stared out the window while we traveled down the highway, the emotionally tumultuous events of the afternoon combined with the new drugs in my system started to make my eyes feel particularly droopy, and before I knew it I had dozed off.

I was awakened by a gentle hand on my shoulder – which did very little – before it moved to gently squeeze my knee… which woke me _right_ up.

"Bella," Edward said softly, "I'm just pulling off Route 41. Could you perhaps give me directions to where you live?"

I sat up and looked around me, rubbing my eyes as I shook off the last vestiges of sleep. "Oh, umm… sorry about that," I mumbled as I straightened my coat. Blinking, I looked around before realizing Edward had now turned on to East Wacker Drive.

"If you could just turn on North LaSalle, I can walk from there."

"Bella, it's 40 degrees outside, I'm happy to drive you to your door."

Not feeling like arguing with him, I shrugged my shoulders and made the judgment call that I trusted him _enough_ that I didn't care if he became the first "customer" to ever see where I lived.

I directed him the few additional blocks before he finally pulled on to my street.

"Well, this is me," I said as we pulled up outside my tired looking apartment complex. I put my hand on the door handle. "Thanks again for the ri—"

Before I could finish my sentence, I realized Edward had turned off the car engine and was looking down at his hands. He then turned to me with his brow furrowed and a look of concentration on his face.

"Would you like to go to a pre-season Bulls game with me?" he asked, before explaining quickly, "I get free seats through work and always have an extra ticket that I never end up using," he finished.

I'm sure I looked like a bit of an idiot with my mouth slightly agape but it was only because he caught me so off guard. Quickly regaining my composure I replied softly, "I don't think that's a good idea, Edward. I make it a rule not to go on dates with clients." _Actually, I make it a rule not to go on dates, period_. But I wasn't about to tell him that.

The determined look returning to his face, he countered, "Surely you don't view me as a client anymore, though. Not after today," he said insistently before continuing, "Besides, it doesn't have to be a date. Like I said, I have to go for work anyway."

For a moment I let myself consider the possibility of taking Edward up on his offer. It might be nice to go somewhere other than Electric Blue, Green Acres or the dance studio. However, thoughts of going to a basketball game took me back to the last time I had attended a sporting event …

_Charlie had taken me to a Mariners game a few weeks after Gran died in an attempt to cheer me up. At first, I had been excited, as this was the first time we had spent any one-on-one time together in years. However, as soon as we got to our seats he began downing beer after beer, becoming even more belligerent than usual – and that's saying something. Around the fifth inning he had stumbled off to get another one and it wasn't until the middle of the sixth inning that I realized he might not be coming back._

_By the time the game was over I started wandering the ballpark, calling his name. I didn't cry – I never cried – but I did experience my first panic attack as I crouched in the bathroom stall in the women's room and rocked back and forth, calling out for Gran to help me over and over. _

_A security guard found me around midnight and had asked me if I was lost. I told him I could not find my father and after briefly describing what he looked like, the guard informed that my father had "fallen asleep" on a bench inside the ball park and had been escorted out by local police._

_Charlie hadn't even remembered that he had brought me with him._

_I lied to the security guard and told him my grandmother was waiting for me at the nearby bus stop – wishful thinking – and asked if he could drop me off. When I got there I had pulled out my Hello Kitty wallet and paid the $15 bus fare back to Forks._

_When I finally walked through the door to my house the next morning, Charlie was passed out on the couch in the living room. The smell of beer assaulted me as I had walked through the door and I noticed a bruise appearing around his left eye. I heard later that one of the police who escorted Charlie out had recognized him and handed him off to an off-duty cop from Port Angeles who was on his way home._

_When I came home from school the next day, Charlie had tried to mumble an apology but I ignored him completely and went up to my room._

_It was not the first time he had disappointed me and it was most certainly not the last. The only real impact the experience had on me was that it had given me a minor case of agoraphobia – a fear of crowded places. The irony was not lost on me, given my current choice of professions. _

As the memory of that day flooded through me unwillingly, I realized going to a sporting event was the last thing I felt like doing, regardless of who it was with.

"Thank you again for the invitation, Edward. But really I can't," I said firmly.

He nodded once, seeming to understand that there was more to my answer than just the client-dancer conflict.

"Okay, perhaps some other time then," he said with a small smile.

"Yes, perhaps," I said with a look that told us both that my words were insincere. This time I was successful as I reached for the door handle and pulled it open.

I got out of the car and turned back once more to look at him, offering him a genuine smile as I said, "Truly, thank you again for the ride, Edward. And if I didn't say so before, you play piano beautifully." I looked him in the eye as I said this, so he would know I meant it.

I gave him a final nod before saying, "Goodbye, Edward." With that, I reached into my coat pocket to fish out my keys and walked to the door, still not hearing his engine re-start as I ascended the steps to my apartment.

As I closed the door to my apartment behind me and locked the last padlock, I finally felt my breathing return to normal for the first time in over five hours. I resolved then and there that today would be the last day I would see Edward Cullen.

~***~

After taking a quick shower, I pulled on my bathrobe and some wool socks and went to the kitchen to see if I had anything to eat for dinner. It was 6:30 and I needed to be at the club by 8:45pm to waitress the night shift.

Opening the fridge, I debated between the three lone contents in there – string cheese, apple sauce, and a jar of pickles – before ultimately deciding I wasn't that hungry and that I could grab something from the kitchen at the club if I wanted to eat later on.

I walked over and pulled Eloise out of her cage so I could clean it, as I did every Sunday night. I put in one of Demetri's old cassette tapes in the dusty old stereo and got to work, singing to Frank Sinatra as I went.

About half way through, I went to my bedroom and pulled out the small, black zip-up bag I had been thinking about all afternoon.

I placed the baggie of white powder on my bed before placing the mirror on my bedside table. I tapped out a bump before rolling up one of the twenty dollar bills that Edward had given me on Friday night. _Maybe using his bills will help erase him from my memory,_ I thought wryly.

Quickly inhaling a few lines, I wiped my nose and leaned back in my bed with a smile on my face, feeling truly in control for the first time all day.

Re-energized, I returned to my efforts in the living room and finished my work cleaning Eloise's cage. With thirty minutes left before I had to leave for work, I sifted through Demetri's music collection and found an old ABBA cassette.

With _Dancing Queen _blaring about as loud as my little stereo would allow, I scrubbed down my bathroom with a wet towel and swept the kitchen. _Just because I lived in a closet-sized apartment doesn't mean it has to be a dirty, closet-sized apartment._

I then pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, a fitted t-shirt, and a hoodie before slipping into a pair of converse sneakers. I left my hair down, knowing that Rose would do something with it when I got to the club anyway. I put Eloise back in her cage, placed a smaller baggie of coke in my bag, threw on my coat, and headed back into the chilly night air to catch my train.

.

"You're late!" Jane yelled as I walked through the dressing room door.

"What are you talking about?" I shot back incredulously. "I'm not on the schedule to start until 9."

"Yes, but you look like shit and your hair and make-up will take at least 20 minutes, so you're going to be at least five minutes late," she snapped back.

Rolling my eyes, I walked around her and went to my chair.

"I'll go tell Rose you're ready for her," Jane said heatedly. "If you're out there any later than 9:05 you're going to regret it, Bambi." With that, she turned and stormed out of the dressing room.

Ignoring her, I pulled out my "uniform" and set my make-up bag on the vanity.

Sundays were usually fairly slow at Electric Blue. Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays were definitely our busiest and wildest, and Monday through Wednesday we got the usual after-work crowd or people being "entertained" on business trips. Although Sundays were generally fairly slow, the clientele could be a bit "mixed bag" which translated to mean "unpredictable." As such, even though the numbers of people in the club might be less, we kept the number of security as high as any other night.

I pulled the bright blue tight tank top with the built-in bra over my head, looking in the mirror as I straightened it so "Electric Blue" was centered across my chest. I then slipped into the tight, black mini skirt which flared a bit at the bottom to ensure that we looked, as James put it, "a little classier than Hooters." Also, because we were now into the colder months we were supposed to wear see-through black tights which were a pain to get on and off but the guys seemed to go wild over, for some reason, so I didn't complain.

"It's about fucking time!" Rosalie said as she stalked into the dressing room and walked toward me with an armful of hair products and devices.

"Don't you start with me, too," I grumbled.

"Alright, alright, point taken," Rose said as she pushed me down in the chair and spun me around to face the mirror. "You work on your face and I'll get to work on this mane of yours. You're not dancing tonight, right?"

"Nope," I said, popping the 'p' as I leaned forward and fished out a bottle of foundation from my make-up back.

Before I could pull it out, though, Rosalie spun me around in my chair and gripped my chin.

"Fuck, Bella. How much of that shit did you do before you got here?" she said as she stared into my glassy eyes.

I jerked my chin from her grip and turned back around. "Get off my case, Rose," I snapped. "What are you, my fucking mother?"

"Fine, fine. Sor-ry," she said shrugging her shoulders, before adding softly, "Em and I just worry about you sometimes."

I sighed, feeling guilty immediately. I put my powder brush down and put my hand over hers, which was resting on my shoulder. "I know, Rose. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. And I haven't done much today, seriously."

She didn't look like she believed me but she gave me a small nod before shaking her head quickly and getting back to work on my hair.

"So, did you hear about Victoria's injury last night?" she said with a conspiratorial smile, back to her usual self.

"No, what?" I said, intrigued immediately.

"Although I didn't see it personally, Emmett said she tried to repeat that falling split that you did on Friday night from seven feet up on the pole," she paused to try to rein in her laughter and get through the rest of the story. "He said—he said, she pulled her groin so badly when she did it that she just sat in the split for thirty seconds straight while her music continued playing before she pulled up into a handstand and walked off the stage on her hands."

"Shut. Up." I said, bursting into uncontrollable laughter at the image now in ingrained in my mind. "Please tell me one of the security tapes caught it," I said, wiping at my watery eyes that were now threatening to ruin my fresh coat of mascara.

"Emmett's already made us personal copies," Rose said back through gasps of laughter.

I finished getting ready as Rose quickly straightened my hair, the conversation flowing easily between us.

Rose was about as close to a best friend as I had these days. She had come to work as a dancer at Electric Blue about a year after I did. She had run away from home, too, although in her case it was from an abusive step-father. She hated taking her clothes off for money and had almost been fired on numerous occasions for physically assaulting the customers who got too grabby.

About six months in, she started dating Emmett, who had been in love with Rose from the minute she walked through the door. Emmett had started working as a dishwasher in the kitchen of Electric Blue when he was 13-years-old and had been there ever since. His primary job was now as bartender and bouncer but given his history with the place, he was also somewhat of a default manager in his own right. Consequently, when he made the decision that Rose should no longer be dancing given her distaste for it, no one challenged him on it, and she has been a waitress ever since.

While my feelings aren't nearly as strong on the issue, I wouldn't exactly say I _enjoy_ taking off my clothes. Still, the money isn't nearly as good in waitressing so I don't give it as much thought. Besides, I rarely – if ever – take off my clothes on the main stage so it's only on the occasions when I have private clients that I remove a significant amount of clothes.

Although Rose seems happier with her role change, she's still frustrated by her lesser income. She's been saving up to open her own hair salon one day and although she won't say it, I know she hopes Emmett will consider leaving the club when she does. For now, though, we all seemed to be stuck here together.

.

I stepped out onto the floor at 9:03 and gave Jane a look that dared her to challenge me. I strode purposefully to the bar in my 4-inch, platform heels and set my tray down on the counter as I punched in.

"Bambs, what's up?" Emmett said with a wide smile as he slid a few beers down the bar to a couple of customers.

Like Rose, Emmett was one of the few people who knew my actual name but was good about not using it in public. Despite the line of work we were in, Emmett always seemed to maintain a positive, almost child-like enthusiasm. While he was incredibly protective of me when it came to my physical safety, he also recognized that we work in a strip club and therefore understood that there was only so much he could do to protect against the ass-grabbing, name-calling, whistlers that graced our establishment.

"Hey, Em. Not much. Long day, but I'm ready to earn some good money tonight."

"Sounds like a plan, Bamb," he said with a grin. "Go get your first orders and I'll bump you to the front of the line, per usual."

Grateful for the quick line I had snuck when Rose had left the dressing room a minute before I did, I put on my sexiest smile and walked confidently to the group of guys nearest the stage.

"Why hello, gentlemen," I purred. "Welcome to Electric Blue. So glad you could make it tonight, what can I get for you?" This particular group of men appeared to be traveling for business which, in my experience, usually meant that they would be a little tamer, particularly if it was their first night in the city.

The man closest to me who appeared to be in his late-twenties spoke up, "Thank you, Sugar. We'll take a round of whiskey sours, please, and four Budweiser drafts," he said with a strong southern twang.

"Sure thing… Sugar," I winked back flirtatiously and the guy blushed as his buddies clapped him on the back. "I'll be right back with those drinks. If you gentlemen need anything else, you just let me know. My name is Bambi."

I took a few more orders at nearby tables before returning to the bar with my order. "Just punched in my order," I yelled over the music to Em as he was pulling out glasses from the dishwasher. "Can you make me one of my usual as well?" I asked.

"On it," he said, tearing off the order sheet that had just printed before laying it on the bar and getting to work.

About halfway through the order he slid me down my usual… a Shirley Temple with extra cherries… which I downed gratefully.

I delivered the drinks quickly and efficiently to my tables, saving the group of southern businessmen for last.

As I was placing the final Budweiser on the table, I heard the others at the table elbowing the guy who had placed the order, laughing as they said, "Ask her, ask her!"

"Ask me what, gentlemen?" I said playfully, with my hands on my hips.

"Uhhh…" the southern guy in question stuttered. "We were—I mean, I was, wonderin', if maybe, you'd consider, umm, perhaps givin' me a…a lap dance?"

Clearly these guys did not frequent strip clubs often, as several of them burst into childish laughter at this guy's discomfort. I looked down and noticed the guy was not wearing a wedding band on his left finger, and figured he was often the odd-man out in the office, even if he sometimes tried to be cool.

Given that I was the most popular and successful main stage pole dancer at Electric Blue, I didn't give lap dances often because, honestly, I didn't have to. Giving lap dances on the main floor was always a bit of a risk because there was no guaranteed payout the way there was in a private room dance. As such, I was pretty selective about who I did ultimately give them to.

As I looked down at the young businessman in front of me, I felt a bit of sympathy for him and responded, "For you, Sugar, I think I'd be willing to consider it," before I paused and added, "Although it's going to cost you…" I finished sassily.

He quickly and clumsily reached for his wallet before pulling out a handful of twenties and thrusting them at me.

I slipped them into one of the pockets conveniently located in the front of my skirt before spinning him around in his chair and placing my hands on both of his shoulders, "Are you comfortable, _Sugar?"_ I whispered in his ear, making him feel like we already had an inside joke as I called him Sugar once again.

"Ye—yes," he swallowed nervously.

As I stood up and walked around him, I smiled in satisfaction as Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me," began to play out. While I heard this song so often it made me want to bash my head through a freaking wall, it also seemed to be every guy's strip club wet dream – _next to Flashdance, _I thought wryly – and consequently the tips always went up significantly when this particular song was playing.

I smiled happily for the guy in front of me who was about to get the dance of his life in front of his work colleagues while the ultimate stripper song blared out on the loud speakers.

As the bass began thumping out the intro and the electric guitar ripped through the opening chords I ran my fingers through his hair, around the back of his neck, and down the front of his chest. His friends started hooting and hollering for him while I turned my back to him and dropped to the floor in front of him.

_Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on_

_Livin' like a lover with a radar phone_

_Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp_

_Demolition woman, can I be your man?_

As I rocked back up into a standing position, rubbing myself into his lap as I went, I felt all the pent-up emotion from my day coming out. Suddenly, I was not dancing for the southern businessman in front of me, but rather for the owner of the most heart-faltering pair of green eyes I had ever seen.

My own eyes now closed, I began really getting into the song. Writhing up and down his body with my back still to him, I wrapped my hand behind his neck before scraping my fingers down his chest and running my hands suggestively along my own body. I turned around and did a few moves in front of him, sucking on my finger as I did before moving to finally straddle his lap.

_Pour some sugar on me_

_Ooh, in the name of love_

_Pour some sugar on me_

_C'mon fire me up_

_Pour your sugar on me_

_Oh, I can't get enough_

As I whipped my long hair around again and again, I kept my eyes closed and pictured that I was running my fingers through a wild head of copper hair instead. I leaned back and swiveled my hips into his before leaning forward and writhing in a way that put his face centimeters from my cleavage.

As the song began to wind down, I'm pretty sure I moaned an audible, "Edward," at one point but thankfully this particular client was too caught up in the moment to notice.

Flustered and aroused beyond any other time in recent memory, I sat on his lap for a good five seconds after the song ended, trying to catch my breath. It was the feeling of him twitching in his pants against my leg that suddenly brought me back to reality as I jumped quickly but gracefully out of his lap.

The businessmen at the table were all clapping and whistling their approval while the recipient of the dance just sat there wide-eyed with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, his breathing considerably labored.

Straightening my top, I bent down and whispered in his ear, "How was that for you.... Sugar?"

Without a word, he reached into his wallet and pulled out two $100 bills. Still unable to speak.

"Why thank you, Sugar. Y'all have a good night now, ya hear?" I said with a smile and a wink, before slipping the bills into my skirt and sashaying away from the table.

When I got back to the bar, Rosalie came up to me immediately and grabbed my elbow, saying, "Fucking hell, Bells. What was that about? Even I'm fucking turned on right now."

I just smiled smugly and said, "What can I say? I'm good at my job."

"I should say so. That poor guy's gonna have a hard on for a month now," Rose said with a shake of her head and what appeared to be genuine look of sympathy for the guy who was still staring mouth agape in our direction.

.

The rest of the night continued without a hitch and by the time we closed up I counted close to $1200 in personal tips. Noticing that Emmett and Rose were sufficiently distracted as they canoodled behind the bar, I went in search of Jane so I could "cash out" for the night.

As expected, I found her in the manager's office, her head bent over a desk as she rapidly punched numbers into a calculator.

I knocked on the open door before leaning against the door jam, arms crossed and a wad of cash in my hands. As usual, I only kept a small portion of the cash that I earned, opting to hand in the rest in favor of … alternative … forms of payment.

"Come in, Bambi," Jane said without looking up. After thirty more seconds of punching in numbers and scribbling something at the bottom of a notepad, she put her pencil down and leaned back in her seat as she looked at me.

"You did well, tonight," she said after a moment. "I saw that lap dance you gave to that southern gentlemen. It was fucking hot. Exactly what I'm always trying to get the other girls to do around here."

"Thanks, Jane," I said without much emotion. "Anyway, you know why I'm here," I said as I tossed close to $900 in cash down in front of her.

"Right," she said, clearly understanding that I was not in the mood for a chat. "Shut the door."

I did as she asked and she picked the keys up off the desk and bent to unlock the bottom drawer, looking up briefly at me to ask, "The usual?"

"Yes," I said in response. "A little more powder this time, though" I added before mumbling a reluctant "please" at the end.

She handed me a plastic bag with several small pills of various assortments before pulling out a scale and measuring out the cocaine. Scraping it carefully into a ziplock and sealing it closed. She placed all of it in a larger ziplock and laid it on the desk, once again turning to her calculator and banging away. She then unfolded my cash and counted out the bills, laying them out in stacks of one hundred.

When she had counted twice she looked up and said, "Technically you're fifty short, but I'll make an exception given your good work tonight. Perform like that again next weekend when James and Felix are here and I guarantee they'll give you your next order for free."

I was unaware that James and Felix were coming to visit but apparently I had all week to prepare myself mentally for it so I just gave Jane a nod and reached for my purchase.

She returned to her calculations and didn't look up again as I grabbed the bag and walked swiftly from her office and to the dressing room.

I felt exhausted as I thought back on what a long weekend it had been – today in particular – and I was suddenly eager to get home and into bed.

Thankfully, I had no further interruptions in my night and was able to be home and sleeping soundly – thanks primarily to three of my new Ambien – within the hour.

~***~

The rest of the week went smoothly and, as usual, I split my time primarily between the club and Peter and Charlotte's dance studio, where I worked on my routines and occasionally gave lessons.

On Thursday I called Green Acres and asked them to pass a message on to Mrs. Cullen that unfortunately I would not be able to visit the upcoming weekend.

I hated the idea of canceling on her, but if I was being honest, I was still sufficiently flustered from my encounter with Edward the previous weekend and I had meant what I said about never seeing him again. In a quieter moment I would call one of the staffers I knew at Green Acres and ask her to let me know what Edward's visitation schedule would be, and I would just work around it.

In the meantime, I tried to ignore the fact that every time a strong jaw line caught my eye from the stage my breath didn't catch. I tried to ignore the fact that I didn't speed up a bit when I saw a head of copper-ish looking hair ordering a beer at the bar. And I _really _tried to ignore it when I walked into the back of the club ready to work the lunch shift on Friday afternoon and I heard Emmett quoting loudly from a certain Chicago Tribune sports columnist whom he had suddenly taken great interest in.

"Dude, Rosie, this guy is pure fucking genius. He was calling Lovie Smith out on his bullshit handling of the Jay Culter trade from Day One. Did I tell you he was in the club last week? He's actually a really cool guy, too. I think Bambs maybe even gave him a dance," he said as he finally noticed me walking in, giving me a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah. I think I remember who you're talking about," I muttered, "I can't be sure, though. That seems like forever ago." Well at least the last part was the truth. It _did _seem like forever since last weekend for some reason.

Having an unparalleled gift for smelling bullshit, Rose scrutinized me with a curious expression on her face before shrugging and turning her attention back to Emmett, who was still rambling on and on about his new "hero."

"Alright, Em, we get it," she said as she slapped him on the back of the head. "You have the hots for the guy. Send him a fucking fan letter or something but stop blabbering on about it. Although…" she said as she bent to pick up the paper and examined his headshot, "I must say, you have good taste. Now that you mention it, I do remember this guy being in here last weekend. He is pretty fucking gorgeous."

Unrattled and ever-secure in his masculinity, Emmett just said, "Sure is," with yet another waggle of his eyebrows as he shot a wide smile in my direction, as if to say "You're welcome."

Rolling my eyes, I huffed and walked out of the room, mumbling an excuse about having to be on stage in less than an hour.

.

James and Felix blessedly were not at the club on Friday night but I realized my luck was going to be short-lived as Jane announced they would be present for the entire Saturday night shift – which also just so happened to be when I was scheduled to be working.

Knowing I would need all the confidence I could, I did a few lines both at my apartment and in the parking lot outside before I finally walked into work. My hands were shaking so badly from both the drugs and the prospect of seeing Felix that I could barely swipe my access card to get in.

Felix was James' brother and shared his major creeptastic factor. However, unlike James, Felix did not have the same kind of financial investment in Electric Blue and therefore did not give a rat's ass about who he did and did not harass. The last time James saw Felix getting too physical with me James had stepped in, although I got the sense it was more out of jealously than actual desire to protect me.

For once I was grateful that the dressing room was filled with girls and I quickly settled into my chair and pulled out my make-up. Rose had taught me a few months ago how to set my hair in large, hot rollers so I had taken to putting them in before I left my apartment. Although it earned me some curious stares on the train, it saved me countless hours of prep with a curling iron in the dressing room.

With her bizarre mothering-distress-radar, Rose suddenly appeared at my side. Resting her hands over my shaking ones before saying quietly, "Let me do that, Bells."

Six months ago Rose had walked in just in time to catch Felix cornering me in the manager's office. She had yanked him off me and given him a swift kick in the balls before offering him some incredibly choice and colorful words. Once he recovered after a few seconds from the initial pain and shock of the encounter, Felix had raised his arm, about to backhand Rose across the face when Emmett grabbed his forearm and said in the scariest voice I had ever heard from him, "Don't. Even. Fucking. Think. About. It."

Felix had completely ignored Rosalie from that point on. Although he only came to the club once or twice a month, every time he visited his efforts to get to me seemed to increase exponentially. Hence my current frazzled state.

I let out an exasperated gust of breath before looking up into Rose's eyes and admitting, "I hate feeling so fucking vulnerable, Rose."

I liked the persona I had built at Electric Blue. I was confident, sexy, and for all intents-and-purposes, seemingly untouchable. It was the only life I knew how to live at this point and that, coupled with the need for certain other job-related benefits, left me feeling like I needed to do anything I could to preserve my job and my lifestyle. Yet with each creepy look and slimy graze of his hands, Felix managed to chip away at the meager foundation I had built for myself in Chicago.

What terrified me most of all was the way his actions took me right back to being the scared, emotional teenager I had been when I first came to Chicago. However, despite Felix's best efforts, I refused to let the confused, frightened girl from Forks, Washington resurface.

"I know," Rose was saying quietly in response, "But Emmett and I will do our best to keep an eye on you all night, and rest assured we'll both be giving James an earful on just how much money you've pulled in for the club this past month."

She began carefully dabbing concealer under my eye and dusting my top lids with the first layer of shadow.

"Hey," she said suddenly, "I know something that will cheer you up. Did you hear that someone from USPDF is supposed to be in the audience tonight?"

"Huh?" I looked up in confusion.

"You know, the United States Pole Dancing Federation, the ones—"

"No, no. Of _course_ I know what the USPDF is. I meant why are they coming _here_??"

"I'm not positive, but rumor is they're scouting for invitation-only entrants for the regional competition."

Charlotte and Peter had posters in their studio of some of the dancers who competed in the USPDF competitions. They often came from major clubs or shows in New York and Las Vegas. There were a select few women who were fortunate enough to rise above the stigma of "strippers" and have their dancing skills viewed as true art.

If I were ever to have aspirations within this chosen lifestyle, it would be to perform in one of their competitions.

Thoughts of Felix gone from my mind almost entirely, I looked up at Rose with a hopeful smile. "Wow, do you think they'll see my show tonight?"

Before she had a chance to answer, one of the last people I wanted to hear from at the moment sank languidly into the chair next to mine and said, "Who …the USPDF?" Victoria said nonchalantly. "Oh, they were here this afternoon and caught my performance. A man apparently gave Jane his business card afterward and said he'd be in touch. I doubt they'll be back."

My heart sank momentarily before Jane herself said from the door, "It's true two reps from the organization were here this afternoon but Victoria knows damn well they said they would be back tonight. Having either of you in the competition would be phenomenal publicity for the club, so good luck tonight, Bambi," she said with what appeared to be a genuine albeit tight lipped smile.

Flipping through my costume rack debating between different outfits, Rose gave an exasperated sigh before reaching around me and pulling out my newest one.

It was a deep red two piece and the top half was a halter that held my cleavage in securely but provocatively and it had ribbons of satin that crossed across my ribcage and tied in the back. It was the ultimate dichotomy between feminine innocence and fiery seductress.

"Oh, Rose, it's perfect. And I know exactly which routine I'm going to wear it for."

A half hour later my make-up was done and I pulled the curlers out of my hair, shaking them out into loose but defined waves. Rose insisted I add some matching red lipstick – something I didn't normally wear – but I gave in, agreeing that it really seemed to complete the "look" I was going for. I strapped myself into my five-inch black, platform heels and stepped back to look at myself in the full-length mirror.

Even I could admit I looked pretty fucking hot.

Still, I was feeling my confidence start to waver slightly so I reached into the bag and started rummaging around for the familiar baggie.

"Do you really need that right now?" Rose asked warily.

"Yes," I said indignantly. "I would argue I need it now more than _ever_." Turning my back to the rest of the room, I tapped out one, long line along the countertop before pulling out the bill I had previously rolled in the parking lot and inhaling quickly.

Rose sighed in disapproval but wisely kept her mouth shut.

Victoria was practically salivating from her seat and I was thankful for the fact that I had just used the last of my coke.

"Bambi, you're on in five!" Jane yelled her familiar announcement as she walked by the door.

"I'll be there!" I shouted back. I gave Rose a quick hug, whispering, "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," she said, squeezing me back tightly.

Taking my usual mark in the pole located in the rafters above the stage, the first chords of my song began to ring out and I felt the familiar performance high flood through my body. I was feeling it perhaps stronger than ever now that I actually had someone – or rather _something_ – specific to be performing for.

I moved through my routine with exceptional focus and enthusiasm, grateful that the lighting for this particular number was fairly intense. I improvised a few new moves throughout and threw in one of the more dangerous falls I had been working on, pleased when I heard the audience gasp and then applaud vigorously in appreciation when I nailed it perfectly.

I finished with a rapid spin before moving into a twisted dismount, unable to contain my smile as I landed it flawlessly.

The audience was louder than I had ever heard them before and I nodded quickly in appreciation before striding gracefully off stage, crossing my fingers as I went that representatives from the USPDF were, in fact, in the club for that performance.

When I got back to the dressing room, a few of the girls actually squealed and hugged me a bit, congratulating me on my performance. I wondered at their reaction for a minute before it dawned on me that happy customers meant heavy-handed tippers, and therefore my performance had just upped their proceeds for the night by at least twenty-five percent.

"Well done, Bambi," Jane said from the doorway, her arms folded and a smug smile on her face. "Not only did you impress the USPDF reps – who told me they would be back in touch soon – but you already have a private client booked for room four."

I made a move to protest before Jane raised her hand and cut me off, saying, "Trust me, you'll want to take this client. He already paid double up front and from the bulge in his wallet I saw when he pulled out his credit card, you could potentially take the rest of the week off with what he might pay you in one night."

I couldn't deny the definite appeal of that prospect and realized that even if it turned out I would be spending the hour with an old, fat man covered in warts, it would be worth it to have a week off to do as I please.

"Okay, I'll do it," I said with a nod. "I'll be there in ten." Jane smiled, clearly pleased she didn't have to fight me on it, and left to confirm the appointment

I quickly refreshed my make-up in the mirror before slipping on my matching red velvet garter belt and walking out of the dressing room to go in search of Rose to celebrate.

I went straight for the bar, knowing that if she wasn't there already, she'd be returning there soon.

I saw her taking an order at a table across the club as I walked up to the bar, but she gave me a wink and a sassy smile as she glanced up at me briefly.

"Bambs, that performance was smoking hot!" Emmett said enthusiastically as he popped the top on five beers in quick succession and placed them on the bar. "Honestly, top fucking three performances for sure." With that, he pulled out a glass and made me my Shirley Temple and slid it down to me.

I laughed before leaning my elbows on the bar and taking a deep sip, "Ahhhh… thanks, Em. Perfect, as usual."

"No problem-o. I'll be right back, Bambs, I need to grab more ice from the back," Emmett said as he turned quickly and disappeared out the back of the bar.

He hadn't been gone more than thirty seconds when the hair stood up on the back of my neck and my body was suddenly covered in goose bumps from head-to-toe.

"My, my, my…. didn't we out-do ourselves tonight Miss Bambi," a voice snickered disturbingly in my ear as an involuntary shiver worked its way up my spine – something he noticed immediately and laughed to indicate my reaction gave him sick pleasure.

"What do you want, Felix?" I said, my buzz immediately killed as I turned around to face him, hoping my body language conveyed boredom when in reality I was glancing around in search of an excuse to get away as soon as possible.

"I think by now it's fairly clear what I want, Bambi," Felix said, looking at me with gleam in his eye that betrayed his sinister intentions.

Still feeling the residual adrenaline from my performance, I looked at him with pure frustration and hatred and said, "Yes, well as James and Jane – both of whom _outrank _you – have told you on numerous occasions, you are supposed to slither off under the rock you came from and leave me the fuck alone, Felix."

_Bad idea._

All amusement immediately evaporated from his face as he gripped my upper arm roughly and pulled me into a nearby, dark corner, out of the line of sight of the majority of the club patrons. Once he had me against the wall he released his grip on my arm and moved his hand to my throat, pushing down on my windpipe and immediately cutting off my breathing.

"Who the _fuck _do you think you are?!" he whispered fiercely, his mouth centimeters from mine. If I weren't concentrating so hard on trying to gasp for air I would have been disgusted by the way his spit sprayed across my mouth as he said this.

"You prance around here in your slutty outfits and your cocktease attitude and then have the fucking nerve to tell _me_ to fuck off, are you kidding me?!" His face was now turning almost purple but that was about all I had time to notice, because things were starting to get blurry as my hands grasped uselessly at his and stars began to dance before my eyes.

Just as I was about to lose consciousness, I heard Emmett bellow, "Felix, what the fuck do you think you're doing?!" while a pair of strong arms pulled me out from under Felix.

I immediately fell to my knees on the ground, reaching for my throat and desperately gasping for the air that couldn't seem to fill my lungs fast enough. In my peripheral vision I saw Emmett hauling Felix out by his collar before he kicked open the back door and pulled him outside into the night.

I registered the feeling of a gentle hand rubbing small circles on my back as someone was saying softly, "Are you alright … Bella?" I lifted my head slowly to find myself staring back into the pair of piercing green eyes that had been unwillingly occupying the dark recesses of my mind all week.

I moved to stand but felt lightheaded immediately and wobbled uncertainly on my legs. Edward moved to grab me around the waist and steady me, whispering, "You're okay." Although the way he said it, I couldn't tell whether it was meant as reassurance for me or for him.

Suddenly I was lightheaded again but I could no longer be sure if it was from lack of oxygen or the way his hands felt as they rested gently on my hips. I took another minute to let me breathing return to normal.

"Th-Thank you, Edward," I said finally, my voice sounding a bit scratchy to my own ears as I tried to get air moving through my vocal chords normally again.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed by the situation and remembering the excuse that I legitimately had somewhere to be, I rested a hand on his forearm and said, "I'm fine, really. Thank you for your assistance, I'm sorry you had to see that." I gently stepped away and continued, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I actually have a private customer I must attend to and I'm already running late."

I moved to take another step when he gently grabbed my arm and said, "No, wait."

I pulled my arm from his grasp, looking toward the private VIP area as I said, "I'm sorry, Edward. I truly don't mean to seem ungrateful, but I really do have someone waiting, and—"

He reached up and put a finger to my chin, turning my face toward him as he said, "No, wait. There's no rush, Bella," he said quietly, saying my actual name almost inaudibly. "There's no rush, because … _I_ am your private customer."

I blinked a few times as his words registered.

"Oh… well I guess that changes things," I said quietly with a small, apologetic smile.

I took yet another minute to calm my breathing and clear my head before I took one of his hands in mine and turned to lead him toward the private rooms, unable to contain the small thrill of excitement that ran through me despite the traumatic events that had just transpired.

~***~

**A/N: Whew. How was that? **

**Ella Fitzgerald singing George Gershwin songs is the soundtrack to my happy place. Go listen on Grooveshark(dot)com if you get a second.**

**The USPDF is a real thing, and if you go check out some of their videos you will see that many of those ladies are, in fact, unbelievably talented athletes and artists.**

**As ever, would love to hear any and all thoughts you guys might have, particularly as this is still in the early stages, so please leave a review if you get a second. **

**Thank you so much for reading! Xo**

**p.s. Don't do drugs! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Everyone please wave *hello* to my BEAUTIFUL and freaking amazing new beta, BelleDean. I honestly don't know how I ever wrote one word without her and you guys should be very jealous that I scooped her up before all of you! ;)**_

_**Also, BIG thank you to Becca (aka readergoof) who did an awesome banner for EB which can be found in my profile.**_

_**Finally, another thank you to all of *you* for reading and reviewing. Words truly can't capture the depth of my gratitude. **_

**Disclaimer**_**: **_**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, its plot and all of its characters. I own Electric Blue.**

~***~

**EPOV**

Adrenaline was still coursing wildly through my veins and my heart was pounding as Bella gently took my hand and led me toward the VIP area.

_What the hell had just happened? Perhaps more importantly, how had this girl turned my world so upside down that I was getting into altercations at strip clubs and handing over large sums of money just for an hour of alone time with her? _ This was certainly not the Edward Cullen I'd become familiar with over the past 25 years.

Yes, I was physically attracted to her; she was indescribably beautiful and my body had responded to her the minute I laid eyes on her. Beyond the initial attraction though, there was something else about her that inexplicably drew me in.

*

It was the sight of that single tear working its way down Bella's face when we were at Green Acres and the way she'd subsequently stared at it with such anguish and… surprise? … that I realized this girl was starting to have a different kind of effect on me.

_The jury was still out on whether or not it was a good one._

When she'd pulled out a bottle of pills during the drive home, nonchalantly popped several in her mouth and swallowed, I had my explanation for the faraway look displayed in her eyes. I felt tempted to challenge her when she had sarcastically told me they were "vitamins" but ultimately made the decision to respect her privacy… for now.

The more I talked to her, the more questions I had – my curiosity never quite satisfied by her answers. _What was that saying…_? She was like a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.

Her whole countenance seemed to change depending on what she was talking about. When she talked about the elderly gentleman Demetri, she got a fond, wistful look on her face. Talking about Grams, Bella's face took on an amused and devoted look. Finally, when she talked about her own grandmother, her face reflected all of the above emotions with an incredibly strong undercurrent of love and loss and pain – definitely pain.

I could tell she was relieved when I didn't press her for information beyond what she proactively volunteered. In fact, for someone who seemed to be trying so hard to maintain a tough exterior, I was finding it fairly easy to read Bella's emotions "in the moment."

Nothing however prepared me for the look I saw on her face when I had invited her to the basketball game with me. At first when I pressed her to come she seemed to genuinely consider it, but then her eyes clouded over with such raw sorrow and somehow her features managed to look simultaneously childlike and weary.

I don't know what had compelled me to ask her to come to the game with me in the first place. All I know is that when she had dozed off during the ride home and her hair had fallen in a curtain across her face, it took every ounce of self-control I had not to reach over and sweep it back behind her ear. I felt like I had been cheated out of seeing what her face looked like in sleep. Did she look peaceful? Restless? Anxious?

Regardless, I knew I wanted to see more of her but I also sensed she was uncomfortable with my appearance at Green Acres. I could tell she would take steps to ensure there was little chance of us overlapping visits again. I think that's what led to my spur-of-the-moment invite to the basketball game; I wanted to make sure I'd have the chance to see her again.

When she had said goodbye and finally walked back into her worn down apartment complex, I sat parked outside for several more minutes to process what had just happened and savor the warm, feminine smell of her still swirling in my car.

*

The next several days passed with agonizing slowness. I did ultimately end up going to the basketball game – but with Jasper.

Wednesday I was scheduled to have lunch with my father and given that I had canceled on him the past four times in a row, I knew there was no way of getting out of it this time around. It's not that I didn't love my father; it was just that he – actually _both_ my parents – sometimes tried to be a little _too _helpful. The events of the past couple of years had only increased their efforts to butt into my life.

The plan was to meet him for lunch at Dinotto, one of our favorite places to eat in Chicago. There was a light rain and a stiff breeze blowing when I pulled up in my car and ducked inside the restaurant.

My father was easy to spot with his grey sport jacket and shock of blond hair that was steadily starting to lighten around the temples. He was sitting in the far corner of the restaurant when I walked in and he immediately gestured to catch my attention.

He stood briefly and shook my hand, clapping me on the back affectionately.

"Edward. You look good, son."

"Thanks, Dad. Sorry I'm running a bit late."

"Not a problem, thanks for making the time."

My father – Carlisle Cullen – was a good man; one of the most successful internal medicine specialists at Chicago's St. Joseph's hospital, a loving husband, and a caring father. He always managed to find that perfect balance between work and family life, clearing his schedule when I was younger to make sure he was at every game – both home _and_ away.

My father had gone to Notre Dame for his undergraduate degree to play football, and had made it no secret as I was growing up that he'd love to see me wearing that blue and gold uniform one day, too. As such, it's not hard to imagine the overwhelming sense of pride he felt when I was Notre Dame's top recruit my senior year of high school. I assumed the position of starting quarterback from the moment I stepped foot on campus.

Unfortunately, with that great success came a growing sense of invincibility. While I had always been a bit of a hot head in high school, when I got to college and no longer had my mother Esme's voice in my ear non-stop, I found myself doing more and more reckless things.

I partied hard with the team and slept with countless girls my first year – one drunken night Jasper and I pulled out the cheerleading roster and realized I had a "hit" rate of well over sixty percent. Whenever I would go home for the occasional family dinner, my mother would lament endlessly that in all my years I had never once brought a girl home. _If only she knew._

It didn't help things that academics came easily to me as well. I realized early on that I could skip classes and just show up for mid-terms and exams and still keep my grade point average high enough to stay on the squad.

Nonetheless, throughout all my crazy antics, I always loved to play. In fact, I _lived _to play. Football was my outlet, my therapy, my drug.

Actually, no drug could ever compare to the feeling I had when I first stepped out of the player's tunnel into Notre Dame stadium and heard over 80,000 people cheering my name. I threw for over 300 yards that first game, running in two touch downs of my own and throwing zero interceptions. I was hooked.

My fame and success in college football only grew after that. By the end of sophomore year, pro scouts were regularly attending our practices and the NCAA clearinghouse was sending me letters pretty much weekly warning me against accepting all the booster gifts that were constantly being thrown my way.

That all changed in one day. After one game. Following one stupid decision to let some idiot's words get to me. In the span of ten minutes, I had single-handedly destroyed a career I had been building toward my entire life.

My dad's softly spoken words broke me out of my thoughts, "Did you touch base with Seth Clearwater last month?"

I sighed heavily, "Yes, Dad. It doesn't usually go unnoticed if you forget to call your probation officer."

My father nodded in understanding, trying his best to respect my independence while still obeying his paternal instinct to make sure I was okay.

_I needed to work on rebuilding my relationship with my father – with my whole family for that matter_, I chastised myself. They had been nothing but supportive these last several years but my anger and bitterness had inevitably driven a wedge between me and the few people I otherwise cared about most in the world.

Moreover, my father had been the one to pull the strings that got me into Northwestern's journalism school in the first place. While landing the job at the Tribune had been all my work, if he hadn't called in a few favors at the end of my senior year when I was on the cusp of flunking out, who knows where I would be right now.

I sighed again, "Sorry I snapped at you, Dad." I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. "I'm just so ready for all of this shit to be over."

"I understand, son. We're ready for you to put this behind you, too," he replied quietly.

Changing the subject, he asked, "So—how are things at the Tribune? I must have had fifty emails in my inbox at work from colleagues and friends writing to say how brilliant they thought your most recent column was." I could tell how proud he was by the tone of his voice.

From there on, we slipped into easy conversation about my job, Grams, Alice and the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. I promised I would come out to the house for dinner soon before we hugged goodbye and I headed back to the office.

*

The rest of the week didn't go any faster. I found my thoughts constantly and unintentionally drifting back to Bella. What was she doing? Had she thought of me at all since I dropped her off on Sunday afternoon? I briefly contemplated a trip back to Electric Blue but I cringed at the thought of being _that _kind of guy who would frequent a strip club twice in one week.

On Friday afternoon, after I had just finished watching some game tape and was about to head home, I ran into Ben Cheney in the hallway. He invited me to come shoot some hoops with a group of guys he played with on Saturday morning. Unable to come up with a good excuse on the spot, I agreed to come along.

"Awesome," he said enthusiastically. "We were actually going to be a man short tomorrow so you'll even out our five-on-five teams."

When I showed up to the courts on Saturday morning, I counted eight other guys. I pulled out my icy hot and slathered it down my right shoulder, a routine I'd developed after my injury. Growing up I'd been a pretty decent basketball player, but I'd only recently started to regain some of my former finesse to shoot and dribble, since I had to learn how to do the moves now predominantly with my left hand.

After Cheney introduced me to a few of the other guys, we were just about to begin when the chain-link fence behind us clanged open.

"Sorry I'm late, fellas. Don't start without me."

I immediately recognized the guy jogging over to us as Emmett, the bartender from Electric Blue. He dropped his bag on the sidelines and immediately matched up against the only remaining open man – me.

What followed was an intense, sweaty, curse-filled, but otherwise great workout as we battled through five-on-five pick-up basketball over the next several hours.

"Hey, man. This was fun," Emmett said with a grin while we were toweling off after the game. "By the way, I caught your column this morning. It was great. You should come back to the club some time. It's not often we get cool dudes in there who I'd actually grab a beer with on my break. Just mention my name at the door and they'll wave you right in."

"Oh. Thanks, man. I might actually take you up on that some time."

"Sure thing. It'd be great to have you. In fact, tonight we've got some big wig judges of some sort coming in to check out Bambi – who I'm sure you remember," he said with a nudge and a wink. "Anyway, it should be a pretty great show if you want to swing by. I know it's short notice but on the off chance you're free it could be a good time."

I rubbed the growing stubble on my chin momentarily. I had no plans for tonight but I still winced a bit at the thought of going to a strip club two weekends in a row. I pushed those thoughts aside, though, as an undeniable feeling of excitement spread through me at the prospect of seeing Bella again.

"Yeah, sure man. Actually tonight might work. I guess I'll see you later then."

"Great, see you tonight," he replied, slapping me animatedly on the back before grabbing his bag and jogging off the court.

~***~

Walking into the club that night, I was immediately assaulted my memories of Eric Yorkie's bachelor party and, inevitably, thoughts of Bella.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the main stage which was surprisingly empty at the moment. _Perhaps they were between sets?_

I spotted Emmett at the bar and walked over. He signaled he'd be a moment and slid a Budweiser down the bar to me while I waited.

Suddenly the music and lights cut out and the blond haired woman from last week stepped out on the stage with a mic in her hand. This time she was dressed in a black leather and lace corset, tight black skinny jeans, and spiked high heels.

"Alright, alright, alright! I know what you guys are all waiting for!" she yelled excitedly into the microphone. "As always, we have a _very_ special show for you tonight. In fact, we have a few guests shooting a video so if you could refrain from flash photography during the next performance, we would very much appreciate it."

The whistling in the crowd got louder and the woman stood with arms crossed, teasing the crowd by making them wait, before she finally announced, "Alright, fine! I'll give you what you want. Here she is… Electric Blue's… Bambi!!"

The stage went entirely black as the blond walked off stage. Finally, soft, fluorescent blue lighting came up and a disco ball started casting out starry patterns onto the stage and into the sea of rapt faces watching.

The music that came on was entirely instrumental and it began with the light tinkling high notes of the piano. It took a moment for my ear to place it before I realized it was the introductory notes of Bolero, from the movie Moulin Rouge. I only knew that because Alice had blasted the soundtrack for three months straight when it had first come out.

I couldn't believe how fitting the song seemed now as the lone pole once again dropped gradually from the rafters and onto the center stage. My breath caught in my chest as I saw Bella slowly and gracefully descend amidst the twinkling lights.

As the light notes of the piano continued to ring out, Bella wrapped her knees around the pole and extended away perpendicularly and held herself there as she slowly rotated. Conveniently, she stayed in the position for so long that I had more than adequate time to survey her appearance.

The tight yet gentle waves of her long brown hair contrasted beautifully against her luminescent skin and the sexy red of her outfit. She had on less eye make-up this time but her full lips were accented by a deep red lipstick, which matched her ensemble.

My memory had not served me well this past week – she was an even more incredible dancer than I remembered.

She rotated out of the hold by bending her back over entirely and gripping the pole with her hands, releasing her legs as she swung them around. She wrapped her ankle around the top of the pole while supporting herself with just her arms as she maneuvered her other leg so that she was effectively in a complete vertical split, flush against the pole.

As the music began to pick up in intensity, she began to move into a series of wild spins. Arching her back and grabbing her foot behind her head at one point as she rotated rapidly.

About halfway through the routine I also noticed there was a different kind of energy about the way she danced tonight. I could sense the same joy and enthusiasm emanating from her, but something was different, more intense. It was almost like she was throwing everything she had into this performance.

I managed to tear my eyes away from the stage just long enough to notice how everything and everyone in the club stopped moving when Bella was performing. Even the cocktail waitresses stood in the aisles and watched as she writhed and contorted gracefully and passionately on the pole.

As the final notes of the song began to play out loudly and powerfully, Bella once again delivered an incredible finale as she spun wildly in different contortions before ultimately launching herself off the bar and landing in a perfect split on the ground below.

The crowd went wild, whistling and clapping and yelling their appreciation.

When Bella finally took her bow and sashayed off stage, I again took a moment to survey the audience. This time my eyes fell on a man in dark jeans with a black t-shirt and a black leather jacket who was standing about fifty yards away from me on the other side of the bar. Something about the way he was looking at Bella made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Emmett had come over at this point and I jerked my head in the guy's direction and said, "Hey, man. Who's that guy over there?"

"In the black jacket?"

I nodded in affirmation.

"Oh, that's Felix. He's the brother of James – the manager of this joint. Felix has a major inferiority complex because he was demoted after botching a few jobs about a year ago. He's a total creep but usually keeps to himself. He's pretty much bad news all around, though, and every once in a while I have to step in when he gets too aggressive with one of the girls."

My blood ran cold at the thought but I tried to segue as nonchalantly as possible, "Hey, speaking of which, how well do you know… Bambi?"

"You liked your time together last week, eh?" he said with a grin while doing this weird, eyebrow waggling thing that seemed to be conveying some sort of '_you're welcome'/'I told you so'_ message.

He cleared his throat before continuing in a serious tone, "I met Bambi when she first came to work at Electric Blue three years ago. She was a dirty, scrawny teenager but as soon as she started dancing on that stage she just transformed. Still does. She's been through a lot of shit in her life – shit I still don't even know all about – but I love that girl. She's about as close to a little sister as I've ever had and my Rose's best friend."

I nodded as if the news was only mildly interesting when in reality I was clinging to every syllable.

_I needed to see her again._

"Okay, I'll be right back. Duty calls," Emmett excused himself, before jogging to the other side of the bar to fill some drink orders.

While my mind was still processing what Emmett had told me about Bella, the blond from the stage walked by me. I acted on complete instinct as my hand shot out, effectively blocking her path.

She looked startled at first but then her eyes quickly scanned me once over and she smiled a creepy, Cheshire cat smile at me and purred, "Can I help you with something, Sir?"

I cleared my throat and answered confidently, "Yes you could, actually. I was wondering if it would be possible to schedule some alone time with Bambi?"

The woman narrowed her eyes slightly at me, as if assessing my intentions, before responding, "I'm sorry, but Bambi is not scheduled to take any private clients tonight."

Figuring that she was just throwing this out as a bartering tool, I replied smoothly, "I'd be more than happy to pay extra to make it worth her while." I gave her my most charming smile, even though I despised treating my attempts to spend time with Bella like a casual business transaction.

"Well I don't know… Bambi is our most popular dancer and she has some very special guests here tonight. I think I'd have to charge you … at least double," she threw out, after contemplating my proposal for a moment. She clearly didn't expect me to bite on the first offer.

"Done," I said.

Her eyes widened in surprise before she stammered, "Oh… well… okay, then. If you give me your card, I'll just go run it for one thousand dollars."

"Absolutely." I casually pulled out my card and handed it to her. She took a few steps to the closest register and punched in a few codes on the touch screen before she slid my card, waited for it to be authorized, and handed it back to me.

"You will be in room four," she informed me, placing a hand on my forearm and getting unnecessarily close. "Emmett, our bartender, can escort you back there in about ten minutes. My name is Jane, by the way." She gave my arm a squeeze, "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Cullen. I'm sure Bambi and you will enjoy each other's company very much."

She gave me a wink that made an involuntary shiver run up my spine before she quickly turned and walked in the direction of the "employees only" area.

After she left, a guy tapped me on the shoulder and told me he recognized my picture from my column in the Tribune. He proceeded to painfully grill me for my thoughts on the Bull's prospects for the upcoming season. After a few minutes the man seemed to get my polite, yet increasingly not-so-subtle hints that I wasn't here to talk sports, and he excused himself.

I turned back around to face the bar, craning my neck to see if I could flag Emmett.

With my back to the rest of the club, I walked farther down the bar, ending up standing in front of the main register where I would usually find Emmett. As if on cue, the door behind the bar swung open and Emmett emerged with two huge bags of ice in his arms. I opened my mouth to say something to him but he suddenly saw something over my shoulder that made his face contort in rage and he dropped the bags instantly.

I turned around to see what he was looking at and the image I was assaulted with made time suddenly lurch to a seemingly complete standstill.

The guy Emmett had identified as Felix was crouched aggressively in a dark corner of the club, no more than twenty yards from where we stood, with his hand wrapped around Bella's throat, holding her against the wall.

In the split-second it had taken me to process the horrific situation, Emmett had leaped over the bar in a single jump and was sprinting toward Bella and Felix. I fell in a half-step behind.

Emmett yelled and ripped Felix violently off of Bella while I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her away. Emmett hauled him off and out a back door, my ears registering the sound of a fist meeting flesh before the door even swung fully shut. I didn't have time to process it further because I needed to focus my attention on Bella, who was crumbled and hunched over on the floor before me, desperately grasping at her through throat while she coughed and gulped for air.

Unsure of how to comfort her, I gently rubbed her back while she struggled to catch her breath. I channeled all of my emotional energy into staying by her side, resisting the temptation to follow Emmett outside to undoubtedly break my probation rules within 30 seconds.

Finally she spoke and I was able to take a quick visual inventory, breathing a sigh of relief that she seemed to be okay. If I hadn't been still struggling to rein in my anger, I might have laughed at the look of confusion and frustration on Bella's face when she informed me that I was keeping her from her awaiting "customer."

What's more, I might have been able to take a moment to appreciate the way her eyes seemed to light up just slightly when she finally understood that we would be spending the next hour together… alone.

~***~

I was jolted back to the present by the feeling of Bella's warm fingers wrapping around mine as she led me down the now familiar hallway toward the private rooms. I could feel her rapid heartbeat through her fingertips as it hummed a quick cadence that echoed my own.

She stopped at the door marked number four – different from the room we had been in previously. As we stepped inside and Bella closed the door behind me, I took a moment to survey the room we had just entered.

The first thing I noticed were the mirrors; the whole room was lined with them. Even the ceiling was a mirror. The lighting in this room was as similarly subdued as the previous one, however this time it was a red hue as opposed to blue.

There was no pole (somewhat to my disappointment) but instead a plush circular, velvet couch in the middle of the room and, like before, there was a black leather couch that ran the circumference.

Bella led me to the leather couch and sat down.

"Bella, about what just happened—" I started, before she placed two small fingers firmly over my lips.

"Let's not discuss it now, Edward," she silenced me. "And the name is _Bambi_, when you're a guest at my club.

I nodded to show I understood and she removed her fingers from my lips.

_Maybe I should call her 'Bella' again just to have her put her fingers back on my lips_, I thought, relishing the feeling as the buzzing sensation spread over my lips where she had touched me.

"So, Edward," she added softly, as Bella—err, Bambi… screw it, she's Bella in my mind, so I'll only call her Bambi to her face—resumed her coquettish perch on the couch and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I'm so glad you decided to come back and visit me." She looked me in the eyes as she said this – clearly conveying that she meant it.

"So, how would you like to spend our time together tonight?" she purred seductively.

I was tempted to just blurt out, _"Cut the bullshit, I know who you are—why are you acting like this??"_ but if I had learned anything in my limited interactions with Bella, it was that she had a subliminal "handle with care" message stamped in invisible ink across her forehead.

I needed to think of a way to draw her out slowly. Given my decent success at getting her to open up through seemingly innocent conversation, I figured I would start with that.

"Why don't we just start again by… talking … at least for now," I suggested carefully.

She shrugged her shoulders and unless my imagination was playing tricks, I could swear she looked—disappointed?

Regardless, I felt strongly about wanting to spend this hour with the girl I had driven home last weekend – not her sound bite-programmed stripper counterpart – and was hoping this would be the fastest way to get her back.

"Okay. What do you feel like talking about, Edward?" she asked, moving to sit across from me on the circular velvet couch in the center of the room. She gracefully reached underneath it and must have pushed some sort of button because the couch slowly began turning in a circle.

I was left momentarily speechless as she reclined onto her back with her hands behind her head, one knee bent, and her chest thrust out.

_Shit, maintaining this talking thing is going to be difficult, _I thought as I felt myself hardening at the sight of her in front of me.

Summoning self-control from some unbeknownst place deep within me, I cleared my throat. "So… um… no fake boobs for you, huh?" I blurted out without thinking, internally slapping myself for talking about her breasts.

Her eyes widened in shock at my question before an uncontrolled giggle escaped her lips.

_It was the most beautiful fucking thing I had ever heard._

Getting herself under control, she thrust her chest out further and commented with mock indignation, "Is it _that_ obvious?"

"What?—oh no! Not at all," I stammered like an idiot. "It's just… I noticed a lot of the other girls… I mean, most… performers… don't usually—"

Thankfully, she saved me from my babbling, incoherent self by laughing out loud. "It's okay, Edward. You're right. Almost every single girl here has breast implants. They actually come with the job description and our boss, James, pays for the dancers to get them after they've been working here for six months."

"Seriously?" I asked incredulously. I mean, I understood the value proposition, I just didn't realize it was so… encouraged. One would think a wider variety of breast sizes would be good for business. Apparently not.

"Yes, I'm serious. James and my other boss, Jane—whom you've clearly met—tried for over a year to get me to agree to it but I absolutely refused."

"Why?" I asked, before quickly adding, "Not that I don't think you're—perfect—I mean, you definitely don't need them. I'm more just curious why you seem so adamant against them in an… environment … where it's so common."

_God, where was that fucking muzzle when I needed it?_

Her eyes were sparkling in amusement at my discomfort as she responded, "Nice to see you've been taking such a thorough inventory of what we have to offer here at Electric Blue, Edward."

My eyes widened at her comment and I opened my mouth to immediately correct her but she laughed again, "I'm kidding, Edward. As I said before, you're right—it _is_ uncommon. However, there are a few reasons behind my decision."

I encouraged her to share her rationale by raising my eyebrow, unwilling to open my mouth and say yet another rambling, inarticulate thing.

As Bella continued her slow rotations on the couch, she ticked off the reasons on her fingers. "First, I've heard from other girls it's very hard to do challenging pole moves and routines when you have those things… flopping around in your face. Second, the recovery time would mean at least two months of no dancing and that's just… not an option for me."

A shadow passed over her eyes. "Third, and perhaps most importantly, there is no way I'm going to get surgery _voluntarily_. Few things scare me more than surgery." Her voice was quiet, sad almost, as she finished giving me her reasons for not getting implants.

I was tempted to probe deeper but her eyes immediately lost their shadow and she added lightheartedly, "And finally, I don't want to get them because I'm just fine with what I have now." She winked as she said this and, as if to prove her point, moved her hands to her chest and squeezed her breasts, pushing up her cleavage.

The sight of Bella touching herself – even if it was meant in a joking way – ignited things in my body I didn't even know were part of my anatomy.

"Umm… yes, I would definitely have to say that you…uhh, made the right choice there," I stuttered in a strained voice, after clearing my throat.

"Thank you, Edward." Giggling, she crossed one leg over her knee and began to gently bounce it. At first I thought it might be a side effect of the drugs she had _clearly_ taken earlier. But then my eyes zeroed in on something I hadn't noticed before: a red velvet garter was situated on her lower thigh.

"Oh, right," I said. Reaching for my wallet, I quickly pulled out a few bills before leaning over and sliding them under the soft velvet, letting my fingers linger for a few moments on her skin as I did.

"Thank you again, Edward," she said with a smile, batting her eye lashes.

I really liked this playful Bella. Our dynamic was different than the last time we had been together in the private room. In spite of the fact that she was "on the clock," there seemed to be a more genuine undertone to her actions and our conversation this time around.

I wanted to experience more of this side of her – the sexy, carefree girl sprawled in front of me – so I tried to keep my questions light. Sitting back on the leather couch, I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees so that I was only inches from her as she continued to slowly spin. "So… do you have a favorite movie?"

"Yep," she replied, twirling a piece of her long hair between her fingers. "Singing in the Rain. The first time I watched it was when I realized that I wanted to be a dancer. I idolized Gene Kelly."

"Debbie Reynolds certainly wasn't too bad in that either," I added with a smile. She seemed surprised by my response. "Grams made us watch it all the time when were younger. It's one of her favorite movies, too."

The mention of Grams had her suddenly looking very uncomfortable, so I quickly changed the subject.

"I'm thinking about taking a trip to California soon… for work. I haven't been on the road for a while and my best friend Jas – who's a photographer – needs to increase his portfolio of some of the west coast teams."

From there, we fell into relatively easy conversation about my job. I explained a bit more about how I got ideas for my columns, how the editing process worked, and a few recent funny anecdotes from games. Throughout it all, I was consistently taken aback by the incredibly smart, astute questions Bella was asking. It almost made me laugh how, despite the setting and the circumstances, Bella had demonstrated more intelligence in twenty minutes of conversation than most of the girls I'd met lately.

Perhaps even more distracting was the fact that the entire time we were talking Bella continued to lie sprawled out on the couch in increasingly compromising positions. She had hit the button to stop the spinning and was now lying on her side, one knee bent and pointed toward the ceiling, with her head on her elbow, giving me an incredible view of her gorgeous body.

When I had finished answering her question about the future of print journalism in the age of internet news, I shifted the conversation back to her.

"So… I told you about my potential travel plans. Any on the horizon for you?"

"Nope," she replied casually, "I don't do much… traveling."

"Well then, if you were to travel anywhere, where would it be?"

Without hesitation, she responded, "New York City."

"And why is that?" I asked out of curiosity.

Instead of answering, Bella crawled on her knees toward me and settling on my lap. "Enough talking," she breathed into my ear and I shuddered.

Though I initially tensed when she moved to straddle my lap, I did not hesitate this time when she hooked her arms around the back of my neck and began slowly rotating her hips.

The vibrations of the bass from outside the club reverberated throughout the room as she began to slowly increase the pressure on my lap.

Her face was inches from my own and we were both panting short, shallow breaths while her eyes stayed locked on mine.

She was exuding such confidence as she went through the motions of executing a "dance" that I was sure she had done this many times before with _many_ other men.

_The thought inexplicably sickened me._

I needed to do something to anchor her in the moment – with _me_.

While she continued her seductive rocking, I slowly reached one hand up and dragged the back of my knuckles along her cheek, while continuing to gaze deeply into her eyes. Only the momentary look of shock flashing briefly across her face and the way her breathing picked up infinitesimally showed me that my touch had registered with her in any way.

Encouraged nonetheless, I reached my other hand up and tucked a loose string of hair behind her ear. This time she sucked her lower lip into her mouth and began gently chewing on it with her teeth. _Fuck me, do they teach that in exotic dancing school 101?_ Whether it was a trick or a genuine reaction, it made me impossibly harder. I couldn't help it as my hips started moving in response to hers.

I slowly began to sit up straighter while simultaneously bringing her lips closer to mine. The bass outside seemed to get unfeasibly louder and the room temperature easily jumped ten degrees as I began steadily closing the gap between us – making my actions clear so as not to catch her off guard.

Suddenly the mask of practiced confidence slipped from Bella's face and her expression behind the carefully maintained façade displayed panic. Her eyes darted back and forth between my eyes and my mouth, her lips parted as she gasped quickly and greedily for air, looking uncertain of what she should do next.

We both sat panting with lips parted, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like a full sixty seconds.

Unsure of what had her so scared but unwilling to divert my course, I finally guided her pouty, luscious lips the last few centimeters until at last I felt her warm, wet mouth on my own. As I opened my mouth to hers, my entire body erupted in response, my hands grasping at her as we kissed, the taste of her mouth and tongue carrying me beyond any pleasure I had ever experienced.

A small, almost inaudible sigh escaped her mouth as she increased the pressure of the kiss and moved her hands up to my hair, running her fingers through it and tugging firmly. I could almost hear the gears grinding away in her head as she remained tensed in trepidation at what we were now doing.

Recognizing that I needed to bring the intensity down a notch but unwilling to relinquish the ground I had covered thus far, I pressed my lips to Bella's one last time before pulling away. Her eyes widened briefly in surprise as I lifted her easily off my lap and turned her so her back was to me – essentially removing all control she had in the situation.

Judging from her previous reactions I was worried this might scare her even more but to my surprise, I instead felt her relax into my body as she molded hers to mine and resumed her gentle grinding.

I pulled her thick hair aside and began placing slow, wet kisses lightly up her neck toward her ear. I sI started lightly running my fingertips up and down the tops of her thighs as she sat in my lap.

"So beautiful," I breathed into her neck. "So soft."

Bella exhaled a breathy moan of her own and tilted her head to the side to give me better access to her neck. As I increased the pressure and duration of my kisses, my hands began to roam up past her hips and over her smooth, bare stomach.

Bella's skin was unlike anything I had ever felt before. While it had remarkable elasticity and sheathed incredibly lean and toned muscles, it was also indescribably soft, warm and smooth to the touch.

Groaning into her neck as I inhaled her delicious scent greedily, I let my hands continue their lazy exploration of her body.

Then I made a near-fatal error.

I looked up.

I looked up and saw that Bella was watching me intently in the mirror across the room.

I looked up and saw that not only was Bella watching me intently in the mirror across the room, but she was also casting quick glances upward to see how our image was being reflected in the ceiling mirror above.

I almost didn't recognize the man I saw reflected back at me.

My eyes were heavy with lust and my hair was wild from where she had run her fingers through it. I was panting heavily and my hands grasped almost desperately at the woman now positioned in my lap.

_You would think __I__ was the one under the influence of narcotics at the moment._

I couldn't contain the groan rumbling through my chest in response to the image as we continued to stare at each other wordlessly while maintaining the steady movement of our hips. I could swear I felt Bella's body temperature increasing under my hands with every passing minute.

Keeping my eyes locked on hers to ensure that my next actions were okay, I continued my exploration upward and slowly began running my fingers over the soft, velvet fabric of her top. Slipping my fingers under the straps, I rubbed gentle lines up and down the soft skin underneath before slowly lowering the straps down her shoulders.

Bella moaned in response and thrust her chest slightly forward, encouraging me to continue.

Realizing that she seemed to be getting more turned on the more I took control, I sped up my movements and placed my hands firmly over her breasts, massaging them over the material still covering her.

Breaking eye contact momentarily to place another wet kiss on her neck, I slipped my hands under the material and over her bare skin while massaging in tender circles.

_Fuck, her breasts felt amazing._

The last girl I had been with had, in fact, had breast implants and there was something about the plastic, silicon-filled, unnatural feel of them that always creeped me out and turned me off.

_Nothing like what I had in my hands right now._

Bella's breasts were the perfect size – big enough to give her substantial cleavage and more than enough to fill my hands, yet small enough to appear proportionate to the size of her body.

I told her so: _"_God, you're _perfect_."

I lifted my eyes to the mirror once again and saw that she was now leaning her head back against my shoulder while looking up at the ceiling. My eyes followed hers and what I saw made me almost come in my pants right then and there.

The bird's eye view of my hands on Bella's bare body was enough to make me stop breathing all together.

Unable to control myself any longer, I removed my hands out from underneath her top and ran them back down the front of her body. "I'm going to touch you," I informed her roughly and breathily as I trailed my tongue along the outer shell of her ear.

"_Please_, Edward," she pleaded huskily in response.

I moved my shoulder slightly so she was forced to make eye contact with me in the mirror across the room.

Not taking my eyes off hers, we both watched as I slowly ran my fingers along the waistband of her two-piece outfit before dipping beneath the red fabric.

The first thing I realized was that my compliments directed at Bella's soft and smooth skin could now be expanded to include _all of her._ She was completely bare as my fingers continued the journey toward their ultimate destination.

When I got there, I gently cupped my hand and rested over her, needing a moment to get a grip on the cacophony of sensations and emotions swirling through me.

"_Please_," Bella whimpered, thrusting up into my hand and effectively pulling me out of my momentary haze.

I slowly extended my middle finger and ran it up and down her folds, my fingers instantly soaked in Bella's arousal.

"Oh, _fuck,_ you're wet," I panted out as my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I couldn't remember a time in my life when I had ever been harder … and my dick wasn't even directly involved at the moment.

I slowly withdrew my finger before gently inserting it…. in….out….in….out… while Bella whimpered and moaned in response to my movement. I added another finger and we both cried out at the sensation.

It immediately occurred to me how _tight_ she felt and my reaction was – surprise? I hated that the thought even entered my mind in the context that it did but I couldn't help it. I kept on wondering how Bella's body had remained so seemingly… innocent given the line of work she was in.

_Thoughts to be considered at a later time,_ I chastised myself_._

She whimpered out a breathy moan that went straight to my already painfully hard cock as I picked up the pace of my fingers. She reached up and wrapped her hands around my neck, running her fingers through my hair at the base of my scalp and pulling my face towards hers.

Tearing my eyes away from the mirror and the sight of my fingers still moving swiftly within her, I leaned over her shoulder and met her waiting lips, groaning as I was reunited with the sweet taste of her mouth.

The urgent insistence of her lips and the way her hips were now rising to meet the thrusts of my fingers spurred me to pick up the pace. I placed my thumb over her clit and started rubbing purposeful circles – something Bella immediately responded to as she let out a strangled cry into my mouth.

She broke the kiss to whimper and say, "Oh, God … _Edward I'm close_," before kissing me again. "Please don't stop!"

My hand was now soaked with her arousal and I couldn't help saying her real name. "Fuck, you feel amazing, Bella," before commanding with more force, "Come on my hand… _NOW._"

No sooner were the words out of my mouth that I felt her tightening around my fingers, her eyes squeezing shut as she bit down hard on my shoulder and let out a muffled scream as her orgasm tore through her.

.

.

.

The muffled beats of the bass from the club and our rapid, shallow breathing were the only sounds filling the room. Time ceased to exist while we both tried to process what had just happened.

Slowly I withdrew my fingers – which up until this point had still been inside Bella – and gently rotated her body so that she was now sitting sideways in my lap.

The movements seemed to bring Bella back to reality because she abruptly squirmed in my arms and attempted to get up.

"God, Edward... That shouldn't have happened," she stammered. Seeming more flustered than I had ever seen her as she jumped to her feet and turned around to face me, her eyes wild with… guilt?

In one swift movement, she knelt before me, fumbling with my belt buckle and unbuttoning the top button of my jeans. She glanced up briefly to meet my surprised eyes before unzipping my fly and reaching into my boxers to grip my erection.

When it registered with me what she was trying to do, I reached down and stopped her hands. "Hey, hey… you don't have to do that."

Undeterred, Bella only shook her head rapidly and strengthened her grip on me before starting to rub her hand up and down my length.

Now … I would be lying if I didn't admit that the feeling of Bella's hand wrapped around me in the early stages of what would undoubtedly be the best hand job of my life was incredible. However, the sight of her kneeling before me with the money I had paid her earlier still sticking out of her red velvet garter belt didn't sit right with me. I needed to halt her efforts immediately.

"Bell—_Bambi_, please look at me!" I pleaded, gently gripping her shoulders

Although she ceased her movements, she kept her head bowed down and her hand in my pants, refusing to look up.

I reached down and gently removed her hand from my fly, resting her hand on my knee before reaching down and placing two fingers below her chin—forcing her to meet my eyes.

What I saw there made my heart constrict in a _very_ unfamiliar, unidentifiable way. She looked so uncertain… and ashamed…and nervous… and, again—guilty.

"What we did… before… brought me a lot more pleasure than what you're about to do – I promise," I said softly, meaning every word of it.

Something equally as unidentifiable as the feeling in my chest flashed across her face before she responded skeptically, "I highly doubt that, Edward." She made a move to reach for my zipper again. "Let me prove it to you."

I grabbed her hands once more and this time said more forcefully, "No, honestly… I enjoyed it very much. You don't have to do anything in return."

She looked uncertain for a moment before giving me a quick nod of understanding. The emotion registered only for a second, before the blank mask of professionalism took hold again over her face, making my heart falter with disappointment.

She placed her other hand on my knee, applying pressure to move up to stand.

"Well then, Edward. I thank you for a most enjoyable evening," she said in her best exotic dancer voice. "Please do come back and visit us again soon." I was starting to comprehend that this was the standard farewell line for departing customers

I stood up to stop her, not even bothering to re-button my pants as I reached out and gently gripped the top of her arm.

"Wait—please. Don't go. Not like this," I said urgently, the wheels spinning rapidly in my head as I tried to think of a way to get her to drop the stripper façade.

Unable to think of anything clever to say or immediately actionable, all I could do was voice the one desire that had been running through my mind nonstop from the moment I saw that disgusting Felix place his hands on her.

"Let me take care of you," I implored quietly but insistently.

Bella's whole countenance immediately changed and her eyes lit up with anger, wheeling around to face me and pointing a finger in my face – clearly infuriated.

"I don't need _anyone_ to take care of me, Edward."

"I know that, but—" I started before she interrupted.

"No, there are no 'buts' here," she continued angrily, jabbing me in the chest with her pointed finger, her eyes wild with fury. "I've taken care of myself just _fine_ for three years—actually, make that _twenty_ years—and I don't need some guy with a white knight complex to come swooping in here thinking he's going to save me from what he perceives to be a miserable existence."

The fact that her fingers were mildly shaking from the drugs still coursing through her system tempted me to point out that she was not taking care of herself _"just fine,"_ but common sense told me my thoughts on the matter would not be appreciated at this juncture.

"Now, I thank you for your help earlier this evening with Felix and I thank you for an otherwise pleasant time together this past hour. However, I think it would be best if we not see each other again. I would hate to cause you any further trouble than I clearly already have."

"You haven't caused me any trouble—" I started to counter before she cut me off again.

"That was not a suggestion, Edward," she said with finality.

Panic suddenly gripped me for some unknown reason as I pondered the possibility of never seeing her again.

_God, what has this girl done to me?_ I thought to myself for what must have been the fiftieth time in the past several hours. I felt like a complete jackass standing there with my pants wide open, still incredibly aroused, begging her to stay with me.

Unwilling to accept that what she was saying was final but recognizing I wasn't going to make any progress tonight, I switched tactics.

"Wait—at least let me give you my number … in case you ever change your mind."

She replied quietly, "That's really not likely to happen, Edward."

She then turned to leave but before she could push the door handle, I played the last card I had. "Wait, at least let me give you your tip."

She hesitated briefly, seeming to debate what she wanted to do, before letting out a small, resigned sigh and turning around. She placed her hands on her hips and looked at me calmly and expectantly.

I pulled out my wallet and as stealthily as I could so she wouldn't see, slipped my business card into a wad of bills before placing it in her now outstretched palm.

"Thank you again, Edward," she said, her fingers wrapping around mine momentarily as she took the money. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye… Bella."

_If I wasn't going to see her again I sure as hell was going to say goodbye to the actual person I wanted to._

She paused for a moment, looking briefly into my eyes, before she turned on her heel and exited the room – never looking back.

~***~

**A/N: If you get a moment, **_**please**_** consider leaving a review! It really keeps me going on those late nights when I'm struggling to string sentences together … :)**

**A good chunk of the next chapter is already done, so expect an update soon!**

**Thanks for reading. xo**

**p.s. Don't do drugs! :)**


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